


Searching for Solitude (with you)

by TheReluctantShipper



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alpha Cain (Supernatural), Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe - Werewolf, Introvert Cain, M/M, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Omega Dean, Werewolf Cain, Werewolf Dean Winchester, Werewolf a Bunch of People, introvert Dean, later in life love, mentions of mpreg
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-08
Updated: 2019-06-15
Packaged: 2019-07-07 12:57:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 23,305
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15908727
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheReluctantShipper/pseuds/TheReluctantShipper
Summary: Dean doesn't want to be part of a pack anymore. He loves his pack, his family, both chosen and blood, but he can't stand the closeness, the constant company and noise.He just needs to find some quiet.He finds that, and a lot more, with Cain.





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

> \- This is (obviously) a work of fanfiction. I don't own anything but the original characters. I don't claim ownership over the characters or storyline of the TV show Supernatural, no matter how grateful I am for them, which is hella.
> 
> \- No posting schedule, because I am a garbage person comprised of garbage, and cannot commit to anything but my husband.
> 
> \- Thanks to the Sister Husbands, who are my best friends in the whole world, and happen to be gracious enough to also beta most of my works for me. I don't know what I'd do without you girls, but I certainly wouldn't be doing this.
> 
> \- You can come see me on [tumblr!](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/thereluctantshipper)
> 
> \- I come by any mistakes here honestly, but feel free to point them out so I can correct them.
> 
> \- Chapter lengths will vary, because the pacing of the story is important to me for no good reason that I can put my finger on. So. This one is short, the next one will (probably) be much longer.
> 
> \- I recently went through a Cain/Dean Winchester reading phase (read: binge), and I was thinking about how much I like their dynamic in a lot of the fics I've read, and then I was thinking that I definitely don't need another WIP, and then this happened. I hope you guys like it as much as I plan to.

When his phone rings for the fourth time in twenty minutes, Dean finally picks up. He doesn’t have to look at the screen (which is a good thing, since he’s driving) to know who’s calling.

“Cut it out, Sam.”

There’s a beat of silence when he realizes with a sort of petty gratification that Sam didn’t actually expect him to pick up, then, “Dean! Wait, don’t hang up. I’m just trying to-”

“I know what you’re trying to do, and I’m not coming back.”

“Just tell me where you  _ are!” _

“No.”

“Why not?” his brother demands.

Dean huffs. “Because you’re just gonna try to track me down and make me come back.”

“I would not!”

Dean’s skeptical silence must be answer enough for Sam, because he just keeps talking.

“Is this because of Ketch?”

Dean scowls at the name. “No.”

“Then what?”

“Sam, I’m not doing this with you right now.”

“Then  _ when? _ Jesus, Dean, Dad’s funeral was  _ yesterday, _ and I wake up and you’re  _ gone? _ What kind of shit is that?”

“Them’s the breaks, kid.”

“Dean.”

Dean heaves a sigh. “I just can’t be there, Sam. I can’t do it anymore. And I don’t have to, not now that you’re taking over as Alpha.”

“You can’t do  _ what _ anymore? I know that you took over a lot of responsibility while I was at school and Dad got sick, I do, and I appreciate it. We  _ all _ appreciate it. But that doesn’t mean you can just bail now!”

“Why not?” Dean snaps. “What the hell do you need me for now?”

“Because you’re my brother! And I don’t know how to do this stuff! And, fuck, there are a  _ million _ ways to get pups these days, you don’t have to-”

Dean hangs up. He doesn’t want to hear any more.

He tosses his phone into the passenger seat and seethes as he drives.

The thing is, Sam’s sort of right. Dean  _ did _ take on a lot of responsibility when John Winchester, Alpha of the Winchester pack, fell sick. Sam was still in school, still passing as a human so he could get an education that would help the pack when he got back to the small town they all live in. Dean didn’t want that to be interrupted, so he insisted that Sam stay where he was and Dean just… Took care of things.

He settled disputes and blessed matings and stood over pups being birthed, all in his sick father’s name. He had his share of fights about it, too. The inner circle of the pack, John’s Council of Elders, none of them have ever cared that he’s an omega, but the rest of them had to be taught a thing or two. Omega or not, he’s still the Alpha’s son, and he demands the same respect, and if he doesn’t get it automatically, he’ll earn it with claws and teeth.

_ Not anymore, though, _ he thinks. His shoulders relax noticeably at the thought.  _ Not any-fucking-more. _

Sam doesn’t understand, but that’s a  _ good _ thing. The shit Sam does now for the pack, the shit that he  _ will _ do, it’ll all come easily to him. Sam’s a people person, he always has been. He likes interacting with the pack, he’s a good decision maker and a natural leader. Sam’s an alpha, through and through. He  _ does _ know how to do everything Dean’s been doing. He watched Dean do it for weeks before John took his final turn for the worse. He’s just trying to manipulate Dean into coming back.

_ How dare he mention pups? _ a tiny voice in his head, the one that sometimes lets him be mad at the brother he took care of for so long, whispers.  _ How  _ dare _ he? _

_ It doesn’t matter. I’m gone, and I’m not going back. _

It’s not that Dean doesn’t love his pack. He loves them with a fierce intensity. It’s just the  _ noise. _ Not just audible, obvious noise, but it’s the constant company, the never having any privacy, the always having someone who needs something. It’s so  _ much. _ Dean was able to pull it together and do it while John was sick and Sam was gone, but now that Sam’s back and about to take over permanently as Alpha, all he can think about how much space he wants to put between him and them.

All he can think about is how much he wants it to be  _ quiet. _

His phone buzzes with another incoming phone call. Instead of answering, he declines it and hits the speed dial, holding the phone up to his ear.

“Hello, Dean.”

“Sam won’t leave me alone.” He knows he’s whining, but he lets it happen. Cas has heard it all before.

“Hmm, that’s what happens when we run away from our problems, isn’t it?” Cas says serenely. Dean hears the hurt beneath the words, though, and closes his eyes as guilt washes over him.

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you I was going. It wasn’t… I wasn’t planning it.”

A heavy sigh crackles through the line. “I know you weren’t. You left your Metallica shirt here.”

“Did I…  _ Shit!” _

Cas’ low rumble of a laugh is enough to let Dean know he’s been forgiven. “Don’t worry, I hid it before Sam got here. When you get settled, I can send it to you. Or a post office box would suffice, if you don’t want to give me an address.” From anyone else, the words would be a jab. From Cas, they’re just him being considerate.

Castiel Novak has been Dean’s best friend since they were pups, barely toddling around in diapers. Cas is an artist, and he thinks and talks like it. He’s a weirdo to the max, but Dean loves him. Dean probably could have even been  _ in _ love with him, too, once upon a time. He doesn’t give a fuck that Cas is a beta and they would have difficulty conceiving a pup (and isn’t  _ that _ a laugh now), but Cas is aromantic  _ and _ asexual. As it is, Dean’s awkward teenage feelings toppled over into a deep, strong friendship instead of romance, and he wouldn’t trade it, or Cas, for anything.

“Fuck that. Once I stop, you’ll come  _ visit.” _

“Oh? I get the honor of visiting the great Dean Winchester, vagabond and runaway?” The awe in Cas’ voice sounds almost sincere. The prick.

“Oh, fuck you.”

“You wish.”

“Come get it, sweetheart. You know I’m up for a chase.”

“... Dean, that’s disgusting.”

Dean laughs out loud, feeling lighter than he has in the two years since John’s dire diagnosis. “Fuck, man. I miss you already.”

“No, you don’t.”

Dean thinks about it, and it’s true. He doesn’t miss Cas, not quite yet. He will soon, he knows. He’s never really been without his best friend for long. Cas is the only person he can stand to be around for very long without feeling drained and depressed afterward.

“I will, though.”

“I know. Do you know where you’re going?”

Dean grins. “Somewhere quiet.”

He pushes the pedal down to the floor and listens to Baby purr beneath him.


	2. Chapter Two

The first week, Dean just drives. He doesn’t worry very much about which direction he’s driving in, nor does he try very hard to think of a concrete destination. He drives until he’s tired and then finds a cheap motel to crash at every night. It’s not glamorous, but it’s the most freedom he’s felt since Sam went to school and Dad started slowing down a little, and he revels in it.

Once the massive swaths of distance he cuts into the countryside clear the cobwebs of panic and fatigue from his brain, he starts stopping at roadside attractions. The biggest ball of twine in Cawker City, Kansas. “Carhenge” in Alliance, Nebraska. The enchanted highway in North Dakota. Dinosaur Kingdom II in Natural Bridge, Virginia. He stops at dozens of ridiculous places, taking copious pictures and sending all of them to Cas, who takes it in stride. Dean gets one- or two-word replies in response to his enthusiasm until he stops at a _huge_ apiary in North Carolina, where he’s met with demands for more pictures and more information. He ends up buying one of almost everything from the souvenir shop and shipping it to Cas in secret.

While he was taking care of the pack, Dean was able to save up a nice little nest egg. Although, it could more accurately be described as a “buttload of money.” Wise investments and high-interest accounts have made him quite comfortable, and staying in dinky motels and buying stupid t-shirts for Cas are barely going to dent it at all. Taking on responsibility for the Winchester pack, which is about fifty Weres strong with a few of the omegas pregnant as hell _(ouch,_ he thinks wearily), at such a young age gave him a sharp mind for money. He’d be damned if the pack went hungry while he was in charge, and they definitely didn’t.

The thoughts of his pack make his chest buzz with anxiety again, and he presses down harder on the accelerator to clear it.

* * *

Dean keeps driving until thoughts of his real life don’t make him jumpy. It takes five weeks.

* * *

At the end of his running, he’s tired again, but in a better, cleaner way than he was before. It’s the kind of tired that pulls at his bones instead of his heart. It makes him want to curl up and go to sleep instead of curl up and shake and cry until he passes out.

Yeah, Dean’s not really cut out to be an Alpha.

He ends up in Kansas City, which was always the vague plan he kept in the back of his head. He wanted away from the pack, but he’s never wanted to be so far away he couldn’t get back in a hurry if need be.

Dean has never intended to abandon his family permanently. It’s an antithesis to everything he is, honestly, to have been out of reach even this long, but it was necessary. Not just for him, but for Sam, too. Cas has been dutifully reporting that Sam has taken to the role of Alpha like a duck to water, which Dean knew would happen. The pack has been doing just fine, even though half of the Council of Elders wants to kick his ass for bailing with no warning. Dean doesn’t feel guilty at all, though. It was exactly what Sam needed to kick his ass into gear.

Dean will never not be part of the Winchester pack, he just wants to be a _distant_ part of the pack.

* * *

Dean finds a motel for his first night in Kansas City, then goes apartment hunting the next day. He can afford to be a little picky, so it takes him three days of nonstop tours and questions about rent and trying to subtly sniff at hallways for signs of other Weres (they don’t often live right in the thick of humans like this, but he’s not taking any chances) before he finds one he likes. It’s got big windows facing the East, a decent-sized living room and kitchen, a big bedroom, and one and a half baths. The rent is decent, even if the landlord, Chuck, is a little twitchy and nervous (some humans get that way around Weres without realizing _why_ they’re so on edge). Dean pays first and last month’s rent in cash and gets the keys in hand that day.

He doesn’t have a lot of stuff, just a couple of duffle bags full of clothes and a few boxes of records and books. It takes him twenty minutes to get moved into the second-floor apartment. Once he’s done with that, he stands in the middle of the living room and looks around with a smile that slowly dims once he realizes he has no furniture whatsoever.

“Fuck.”

* * *

The third day he’s in Kansas City, after a night that he resentfully sleeps in his Baby _again,_ he hits the second-hand stores. He finds a decent bed frame, a couch that doesn’t smell _too_ weird, and a few pieces of mismatched furniture. He picks up a couple of lamps for the bedroom and the living room, packs everything he can into the Impala, and orders the rest to be delivered that day. He stops at a mattress store and finally gets a mattress that will _remember him._ On the way back, he goes by a grocery store to pick up the essentials and makes his way home.

That night, after the deliveries have been accepted and everything has been put away and arranged _(nesting, you’re nesting)_ to his liking, Dean sinks into his not-too-weird-smelling couch and sighs deeply. He knew it would take some effort to get everything settled, of course, but he’s _wiped._

He falls asleep on the couch and doesn’t wake until morning.

* * *

He doesn’t bother looking for a job for several days after he moves in. He mostly spends his time at home, trying to make the place smell more like him than any of the random previous tenants, or the previous owners of the furniture he bought. He cooks and cleans and ignores his phone (except for Cas) and watches shitty TV.

Once the apartment properly smells like him, he starts getting restless. The free time is getting to him, so he goes to the coffee shop down the street, where a cute girl makes him a cup of damn good coffee, sells him a damn good breakfast sandwich, and pokes fun at him for buying a newspaper. Dean just winks at her and settles in a corner booth.

The anonymity of sitting here, surrounded by people who don’t give a fuck about him, is soothing. It’s nice to not be interrupted by gossip disguised as important pack business. It’s nice to just sit, sip his coffee, and look through the want ads without someone shouting his name or inviting themselves to sit at his table and bitch at him.

The feeling of contentment stays with him when he goes home, calls one of the numbers from the paper, and sets up a job interview for the next day.

* * *

A few weeks later, Dean is almost completely settled in Kansas City.

His apartment smells firmly of _Dean_ and _happy_ and _omega._ The job he got at a local garage, just basic mechanic work, is fulfilling in a simple way that he’s been craving. There’s a rhythm, an ease of knowing what will come next that’s incredibly peaceful.

His coworkers are… Characters, to say the least. Ash is some sort of savant, always coming in at least two hours late, hungover to boot, and _still_ somehow managing to get more work done than any of the rest of them combined. Garth is less than half as efficient as Ash is, but his cheerful disposition and absolute refusal to be brought down by anything means he’s good with customers and the crew alike. Rufus, the owner of the garage, is gruff, but he reminds Dean of Bobby, and he likes him just fine.

They’re all friendly enough, and Dean goes out for a beer with them a couple of times, but he doesn’t know that he’d classify them as _friends._ He doesn’t need or want friends, no more than Cas, really, and Charlie, when he can get the energy up to have her company. He likes the solitude, the quiet. When he was with the pack, there was so much responsibility, so much constant noise.

Here, Dean’s by _himself._ He gets a library card and starts reading in the evenings with a glass of whiskey and the news turned low in the background. He’s started going to a local video/bookstore that sells more second-hand stuff and he’s building quite the collection. Enough that he has to go buy a couple of bookshelves.

“You sound happier,” Cas says on one of their weekly phone calls. “Lighter. Less burdened.”

Dean grins. “I am.”

* * *

Only two things are missing from his new life.

As much as Dean is soaking in the solitude, and as much of an untrustworthy asshole as Ketch turned out to be, he _does_ kind of miss that kind of connection. Someone as quiet as he is, maybe, an alpha with big hands and gentle touches who would be just as content in the silence as Dean is. In this fantasy, they cuddle on the couch and watch TV or read after this faceless, nameless alpha makes Dean dinner. After _that,_ maybe Dean takes his alpha by the hand and leads him to the bedroom to show him how grateful he is.

It would just be nice to have someone to be alone _with,_ he thinks before he lets that particular fantasy get away with him. But, since he just managed to get away from his loud but well-meaning pack, he’s not actually complaining. It’s nothing he aches for, it doesn’t keep him up at night. It would just… Be nice.

The other thing missing from his life is running, but that’s easy enough to fix. He waits until a Friday evening, when the sun is gonna be perfect in just about an hour to shine through the trees, hops into his baby, and drives.

* * *

He pulls the Impala into a little clearing that’s just far enough off of the road to sufficiently hide her, or it will as soon as it’s a little darker, but not quite so far that he’s worried about her suspension. The night is clear and warm, with the sun starting to set _just_ the way he wants it. He feels the excitement buzz beneath his skin, making it jump and twitch.

He gratefully strips as soon as he gets out of the car, freeing his flesh to feel the breeze against it. He puts his clothes and wallet in the trunk, then takes out the stupid Hide-A-Key rock that he for some reason despises to the core of his being and puts Baby’s keys in it, swinging it shut. It doesn’t _look_ like a real rock, and he knows it doesn’t fucking _smell_ like one, but it’ll do for stupid humans who want to take an old muscle car out joyriding.

 _Over my dead body,_ he thinks testily.

Finally, _finally,_ Dean drops the stupid rock on the ground, tilts his head back, and Shifts.

The magic makes the change seamless, painless, smooth and completely natural. Where he was standing, a six-foot-one, a broad-shouldered, well-muscled man, he now stands on four strong legs. He shakes his russet-colored fur out and lets his tongue loll out of his mouth in a happy grin. His eyesight is exponentially improved, but the real change (outside of his physical form) is the _scents._

He can smell the thick, deep underbrush of the forest around him. The bark on each tree, the different species of leaves and grass around him. The dirt beneath his paws, the cooling engine of Baby and everything that comes with it. He hears everything, too, leaves falling and weeds rustling and the forest wildlife settling in for the night, but the smells will always be Dean’s favorite.

Before he can do anything else, he takes the Hide-A-Key delicately in his powerful jaws (it tastes like plastic, oil, and the residue from his own hands), trots a fair distance away, and buries it. Once it’s covered, thus securing his Baby, Dean chooses a random direction.

And he _runs._

He revels in the stretch and flex of the long muscles in his legs, his shoulders, his back. He runs with his ears perked forward and his tongue still hanging out the side of his face. Unfettered joy lifts his soul, makes him feel happy and a little high. He barks giddily as he makes his way down a steep hill, sure-footed and fearless.

Weres don’t actually change _personalities_ when they Shift. Dean is still mostly Dean, but in this form it’s so much easier to just go along with his instincts. The signals in a wolf’s brain are different than the ones in a human’s, and a Were is a strange blend of both. Dean’s human brain is telling him that he’s closer to thirty than not and that maybe he should slow it down a little, he’ll be sore in the morning if he doesn’t.

His wolf brain is telling him that he’s strong, lean, and _fast._ Slowing down would be a tragedy.

He loses track of time. Sometimes he’s running, sometimes just trotting. He chases a rabbit for a while, but doesn’t try very hard to catch it, it’s just for fun. His human brain feels bad when he smells the rabbit’s terror, but his wolf is amused. He sits and throws his head back to howl, delighted with life and everything around him. Then he runs again.

He doesn’t know what time it is, just that the moon is high above when he smells another Were in the forest. He stops, scenting the air. There are no hints of territorial behavior in the air, no anger or will to fight or defend. He only smells one other being, and the scent is fresh.

Neither Dean’s human brain nor his wolf brain can be accused of overthinking. He follows the trail at a run, nose low to the ground, whining in the back of his throat in excitement.

He finally comes to a bit of a clearing. The trees leave a small circle in their growth, where there’s only high grass and tall wildflowers. There, just on the other side of the clearing, is the other Were.

_Jesus, he’s big._

 The Were in front of him is _huge._ Size of the wolf isn’t indicative of the size of the human, really, but Dean’s wolf is rather small because of his subgender. Even if he couldn’t smell the alpha from all the way over here, he’d know it by how big he is, anyway. Dean, were he standing next to his human form, would probably come up to the middle of his own thigh at his wolf’s shoulder (bigger than the average dog, but small for a wolf). The alpha would easily come up to his hip (big for a dog _and_ a wolf).

His fur is thick and black, except for bits around his muzzle and ears where there are flecks and streaks of gray. It makes him look… Well, Dean hates to be a cliche, but it makes the alpha look wise, distinguished. His tail is low, but not between his legs in fear. His ears are up in interest, but his hackles seem to be lying flat. His eyes, an icy blue, are trained on Dean, who still hasn’t really lifted his face from the ground.

He does so, but slowly. He doesn’t smell aggression on the air, but he’s not stupid enough to make any threatening moves, or any fast movements at all, in front of a strange Were, especially if he’s in the other guy’s territory. Especially if the other guy is the _biggest alpha he’s ever seen._

The big wolf trots to the center of the clearing, and Dean does the same on his end. The scent of wariness fills the air as they sniff at one another’s scruffs, jaws, and ears, trying to get a read on each other.

Dean pulls in _alpha, alpha, alpha,_ but also _alone,_ and _unmated._  He wonders what the alpha is getting from his own scent, if his pack lingers there or if he can tell that Dean’s on his own, too.

He’s surprised and pleased when the alpha gives him a gentle, solitary lick at his jawline. A sign of respect, of equals. Dean wags his tail and yips in the back of his throat, making the alpha _whuff_ out in amusement against his cheek. The alpha turns and trots away, and the expectation that Dean will follow is clear. He does so, falling next to the alpha’s walk easily as they reenter the woods.

Dean loses track of time again. They alternate between walking, loping, and full-out sprinting through the forest, always right next to each other. Dean never has trouble keeping up with this alpha, and the alpha never tries to shake him off or challenge him just to be a dick.

It’s… _Incredibly_ soothing.

Running in wolf form is one of the most freeing sensations Dean’s ever felt, but it hasn’t really been that way for a long time. During the last few years, he never _ran_ with the pack, he was _leading_ the pack. He had to make sure none of his slower runners, the sick or the elderly or the very youngest, were falling behind. At the same time, he had to ensure that none of the fastest, the young and strong and the pups, were leaving the pack behind. He had to keep any headstrong alphas in line while they ran, nipping any bids for power or dirty tricks in the bud.

It may have been the exact opposite of relaxing, actually, now that he thinks about it.

This, though, running shoulder to shoulder with this strange alpha, it’s good. They move in tandem, muscles bunching and releasing at the same time side-by-side. Now that he’s not quite as nervous or on edge, he can appreciate how _good_ this alpha smells, too, like sun-warmed skin and honey. Dean likes the way it mingles with his own sweeter scent, apple pie and spring breezes. By the way the alpha’s nose twitches and his lips turn up just a little, a hint of a smile, Dean thinks he agrees.

They end the run with another long sprint, by the end of which they’re both winded. The alpha finally stops in the meadow where they first encountered one another. Dean gracelessly flops to the ground, lying on his side and panting happily. The alpha lies down at his back, much more sedately, and Dean’s only mildly surprised when he feels a big, rough tongue grooming at his face and ears. He lets the alpha groom and scent-mark him to his content, only turning his head and leaning up a little to return the gesture once it seems like he’s done. Dean licks at the alpha’s jaw and neck, properly submissive for the first time that night, and the alpha grumbles deep in his chest. Dean grins and thumps his tail, flipping himself over and nuzzling up under the alpha’s neck. He’d be more embarrassed at his forwardness, behaving like they’re already courting or mating, if anything in the alpha’s scent indicated he was displeased. Instead, the alpha smells happy and content, and it sends Dean into a deep, exhausted sleep quite easily.

* * *

Dean wakes up alone, but the scent of alpha all over him lets him know that none of it was a dream. When he trots back to the car, it’s with a smile.


	3. Chapter Three

A few days after his run in the woods with the mysterious alpha, Dean is at work when he catches another whiff of the sun and honey scent that seems to have etched itself into his brain. He whips around, trying to find the source as subtly as possible. He doesn’t want to appear as anything but normal to his human coworkers, but he  _ has _ to find where the scent is coming from.

His twitching nose leads him out to the lobby, behind the counter. A man is there, looking at the certifications on the wall for each mechanic. He’s tall, just as tall as Dean, with broad shoulders that stretch a worn chambray shirt to the limit and dark work jeans. His salt and pepper hair  _ (gods help me, that’s hot) _ is a little longer than Sammy’s, tied at the nape of his neck with a tie. His hands are clasped behind him, and he looks relaxed when he turns and his icy blue eyes land on Dean and pin him there.

It takes a few beats of what can only be described as soulful eye contact before Dean can shake himself a little and throw on a smile. “Heya,” he says cheerfully.

“Good morning.” The alpha’s rough, deep voice sends tingles up and down Dean’s spine. The man makes his way over to stand in front of the counter.

“What can I do for you?” Dean’s not going to mention anything about their  _ (glorious) _ run together here in the middle of the lobby at work.

The alpha smiles a little. “My truck is making a horrible racket. It seems to run fine, but I can’t find the cause of the noise.”

Dean nods. “Well, let’s go take a look, yeah? We can just drive around the parking lot a couple of times, if you want, see if I can’t figure out what’s going on just from that.”

The alpha cocks an eyebrow. “Just from that, hmm?”

Dean winks. “Friends and family discount.” He pulls out a form and a pen and lays them on the counter in front of the alpha. “If you can fill this out for me, it’s just a liability and insurance form, then some basic information.”

Dean doesn’t try to conceal the way he watches the alpha fill out the paperwork. To his credit, the man neither calls him out for it nor tries to hide his answers. Instead, he turns the paper so Dean can see it more easily.

_ Cain Primis. _ The (his?) alpha’s name is Cain Primis.

Once he signs the insurance forms and fills out the basic information (from the make and model, Dean can tell it really  _ is _ an old farm truck), Cain pushes the form back across the counter. “It’s only fair,” he murmurs, “your name is plastered on the wall.”

Dean grins. “Yeah? Lotta certs up there, man. Which one do you think I am?”

Cain’s eyes twinkle, thoroughly entrancing Dean. “Well, Garth and Ash’s certifications are both dated within the last two years, which means they either got into this line of work recently or recently moved here. Granted, I couldn’t have guessed this before you came in here, but your accent definitively puts you as a lifelong Midwestern, as well as the fact that your own certification is dated several years ago.”

Dean’s eyebrows are at his hairline as he rounds the counter to join the alpha in the lobby proper. “Pretty impressive.”

Cain leans forward conspiratorily. “It’s also embroidered on your shirt, Dean.”

Dean feels himself blush. He would be mortified that the alpha so neatly got one over on him, but he’s drowning in the way his name sounds on Cain’s lips, instead. He wishes, for a moment, that they were out in the woods again, where he could encourage the alpha to chase him for real this time, to feel his blood pump and his arousal hum beneath his skin.

Instead, he smiles wide. “Right. Prob’ly should have caught that.”

Cain smiles back. “I suspect I distracted you.”

Dean snorts and jerks his head the direction of the door. “Come on. Let’s take a listen to that truck.”

Cain nods and waves a hand for Dean to go ahead. The garage itself isn’t very big, with only three bays to pull cars into and a modest parking lot. The alpha’s truck, old but clearly well cared for and almost totally free of rust, is parked in front of the building.

Cain hands over his keys over easily, and Dean puts another mark in the “pros” column for the alpha. He hops up into the driver’s seat. As soon as the doors are shut when Cain climbs into the passenger’s side, Dean smirks.

“So,” he says softly, “you’re my running buddy.”

“So it would seem,” Cain says nonchalantly as he buckles his seatbelt. If Dean couldn’t smell his interest, he’d think Cain was one smooth customer.

The cab of Cain’s truck is like the outside, obviously not new but clean and functional. The only bit of personality at all, outside of the permanent scent of a laid-back alpha and his sweat, is a small stuffed bumblebee hanging from the rearview mirror. Dean cocks an eyebrow at it, then at Cain, who graces him with a smile.

“I own a small apiary,” he explains, “along with the farm I live in.”

“Apiary is bees, right?”

“Indeed. I’m surprised, that’s not extremely common knowledge.”

Dean preens a little. “Ah, my best friend has a thing about bees.” Dean glances over at Cain. “Anyway, a farm. How’s that?”

“It’s…” Cain is silent for a beat before he settles on, “Quiet. It’s quiet.”

Dean grins. “Y’know, I’m a big fan of the quiet myself.”

He feels Cain’s eyes on his face, but keeps his own gaze on the road as the alpha speaks. “Are you, now?”

Dean grins.

* * *

They make small talk, during which Dean feels he does a decent job of keeping his own cool while he fixes a valve that got knocked loose. Cain explains that it’s his main work truck and the problem probably came about while he was out in the field. He speaks quietly, words measured and even, almost hypnotic. Dean finds it enchanting.

When Cain leaves, he tips Dean over-generously, despite Dean’s strenuous objections  _ (“Dude, it wasn’t that big a deal.” “On the contrary, the truck directly impacts my livelihood, and you fixed a problem efficiently on the same day I brought it in. The money is well-earned, Dean.”). _ Dean ends up blushing and taking the money quietly after that.

When they shake hands, Cain’s long fingers caress the sensitive skin on the inside of Dean’s wrist, which makes him shudder and his breath catch.

Once the alpha is gone, Dean endures well-meant ribbing from Garth and Ash. Dean listens carefully to make sure all of what they say is the normal shit guys dish out, nothing about any…  _ Wolfy _ tendencies. When it is, in fact, just normal (albeit affectionate) mocking, he rolls his eyes and lets it roll off his back until Rufus comes out of the office and yells at them all to get back to work.

It’s not until he’s under a little sedan doing an oil change for a college student that he really lets himself thinks about it.

_ So the alpha likes me, _ he muses with a smug smile.

* * *

That night, he drives back out to the woods where he met Cain. He quickly strips, stows his clothes and his key, and Shifts. He gives himself a good, hard shake of his fur before going in search of the alpha.

He doesn’t actually see Cain. He’s disappointed, and he runs around for a while, letting his muscles warm up and his thoughts clear. In his human mind, he knows that Cain is a business owner and doesn’t have time to be chasing Dean around, or meeting Dean every night, especially in their Shifted forms. Hell, he took a chance coming out here, it’s his own fault if he’s disappointed.

His wolf, though, wants to leave something for the  _ (his) _ alpha.

He goes to their clearing again and sits back on his haunches in the middle, looking around. He could leave a kill here, an offering, but not only is it less than traditional for an omega to give an alpha the first courting gift (not that Dean’s particularly interested in a traditional mate, but he doesn’t want his intentions to be misinterpreted), since he doesn’t know when Cain will come back to the clearing, he can’t guarantee that Cain will be the one who gets the kill.

_ Something more subtle, maybe. _

Instead of a kill, he stands and starts to make his way around the trees that line the clearing. He rubs himself all over the trunks, from neck to rump on each one. He keeps his scent light and playful, and on occasion lets it reflect interest and desire. He keeps going, going deeper into the woods as soon as the clearing is done, soaking it and the surrounding woods in his scent. The whole place reeks of apples and spring.

Once he’s satisfied that there’s no  _ way _ that  _ these _ actions can be misinterpreted, he goes home, smug once again.

* * *

He doesn’t see Cain again, but a few days later, when he goes back to the woods, the trees have been marked over with a new scent. It’s stronger now than it was while they were running. He’s getting summer days, skin pinked from the sun during work or play on a hot day. The thick, sweet smell of fresh raw honey. The underlying muskiness that marks Cain as alpha.

And it would be exceptionally hard to miss the unmistakable scent of alpha in pursuit.

Unable to actually laugh in this form, Dean huffs a few times in amusement. The scent was left a few days ago but is strong enough to soak into his brain and make him dopey and happy. He howls and runs in a few giddy circles before setting off in a straight line, eager to just run and maybe knock the edge off of the excess energy building beneath his skin.

It doesn’t work.

He circles back to their clearing, where he immediately flings himself onto his back, rolling around in the grass and the thick scent of his alpha. It’s extra thick here, vibrant and strong.

_ Almost like… _

He jerks himself to his feet when he hears a huffing of breath. He swings toward the sound and is met with beautifully icy blue eyes crinkled in amusement, Cain’s long tongue lolling out of his mouth as he grins at Dean from the edge of the clearing.

_ Alpha is here. _


	4. Chapter Four

_ Alpha is here. _

The human part of Dean wants to go to Cain immediately. He wants to bask in the big alpha’s presence and to scent-mark the  _ fuck _ out of him. He wants every Were in a thirty-mile radius to know that Cain is  _ his. _

The wolf part of Dean, however, wants to run, and he lets it take over. He whips around and darts out of the clearing, letting his tongue fall out of his mouth with a grin when he hears Cain yip a bark of approval and give chase.

It’s been a long damn time since Dean has been chased. Not for lack of interest, but Dean has been too  _ busy. _ Running the pack took up too much time and effort to seek any romantic interests, in either human or wolf form. The only reason he and Ketch got involved was that  _ Ketch _ approached  _ him, _ and they spent almost no time at all together as wolves. Any time they were Shifted, they were with the pack, and Dean was too busy keeping everyone in line to run as part of a pair.

The thought of Ketch makes his chest tight. With a whine, he banishes the memories, because he’s got more important things going on right now.

He’s being  _ chased. _

Dean has the advantage of being  _ fast. _ He’s kind of small in this form, at least for a Were, but he makes up for it by being quick and agile. If he was  _ actually _ trying to get away from Cain, he’s confident he’d be able to.

Lucky for Cain (and Dean) he wants no such thing.

Though he pushes them hard for a while, Dean finds himself eager to be caught. The alpha has to prove himself worthy and capable (a thought that has Dean’s human self rolling his eyes), but he wants to be  _ near _ the alpha now.

He probably should have been paying closer attention, or maybe bothered to remember how  _ big _ Cain’s wolf form is. Since he did neither, he's surprised at how little time it takes for Cain to catch him when he starts to slow down. One moment he’s slowing and considering finding a good hiding place, and the next he’s gently tackled by a huge, firm mass.

Dean barks and rolls with the hit. They play fight in the dirt like pups, ears perked high and hearts thumping hard in their chests from exertion. It’s the most fun Dean’s had since they ran together the first time.

When Cain takes off at an easy lope, it feels natural for Dean to fall into step next to him. They run for a long time, and the warmth seeping into his side from Cain is wildly soothing.

It feels good to run with Cain, it feels  _ right. _ The rest of the forest population, squirrels and voles and foxes, all dart out of their path as they run, making way for the apex predators. It feels like  _ their _ woods that they mark with their scents as they move.

Dean notices that they seem to be making a wide circle just before he smells the meadow where they met coming up ahead. Their combined scents are strongest there, and he gives an excited yip.

They stop at the edge of the clearing and walk to the middle by silent agreement. When they get there, Dean flops down gracelessly, his chest heaving as he works to catch his breath.

Cain lies down much more sedately, very close to Dean. The omega shamelessly rolls over so his head rests on Cain’s forelegs. He curls close to the solid alpha’s warmth, panting happily.

When he feels Cain’s long tongue grooming the top of his head and ears, something soft and long-neglected unfurls in Dean’s chest. He heaves a contented sigh and the airy smell of alpha happiness fills his nose. He’s not young or idealistic enough to think this is love or even real affection yet, but he likes the alpha. A lot.

When Cain finishes grooming him, it’s with a new reverence, a new weight to the motions, that Dean tilts his head up to lick at Cain’s jaw and neck. He moves up to groom the alpha’s cheeks and snout, paying special attention to the places where white flecks are sprinkled liberally. He loses himself a little in it, letting his mind coast on their combined scents and their shared warmth.

Eventually, he gets drowsy enough to lay his head back down on Cain’s forelegs. He feels the weight of the alpha’s head on the back of his neck, a position meant to shield, and he feels the last of any tension he had in him drain away completely. He falls into a deep, peaceful sleep.

* * *

Dean wakes early the next morning, his internal alarm clock reminding him that he still has to go to work today. He’s still firmly pressed against Cain, his face buried in the alpha’s chest. He’s obnoxiously comfortable here, almost enough to call into work and stay.

But Beth, Garth’s sweet wife, is so pregnant that every cough is cause for alarm, and Dean doesn’t want to leave Ash in the lurch if today is the day she finally pops. Rufus would come out of his office to help, but he’s got arthritis from his shoulders to his fingers and Dean doesn’t like the idea of him working on cars with them.

_ Even when I’m with humans I’m taking care of a pack, _ he thinks without heat.

It’s with great reluctance that he pulls himself away from Cain. The alpha sleeps on, and Dean takes a few beats to just stare. Cain’s an exceptionally good-looking wolf, big and strong and handsome. His fur is so black that parts of it look blue in the morning sunlight. It makes the white in his fur, sparse though it is, look even better.

He heaves a sigh and nuzzles beneath Cain’s jaw, gently enough that he doesn’t wake up. He makes sure to put enough regret in his scent so Cain will know he didn’t want to leave, then he heads away from the meadow, feeling heavy and light at the same time.

* * *

When Dean gets home, he has plenty of time for his morning routine, but he finds himself stalling until he has to leave without showering. He smells like Cain all day, making him feel settled and warm in his chest. It’s nice.

* * *

Garth’s wife gives birth to a healthy pup -  _ it’s a baby when it’s human, _ Dean reminds himself - the day after. Dean makes the appropriate noises over the pictures and bullies Rufus into letting Garth take two weeks off for paternity leave. Rufus grumbles about not being able to afford it, but caves pretty easily.

Dean and Ash work overtime to pick up the slack over the time Garth is gone. It’s easy money, and Dean would have done it anyway, even if his boss didn’t insist on paying them both double-time for the sacrifice.

It means that all of his time is taken up at the garage, though. Each day ends with him collapsing into bed, too exhausted to even think about going out to the forest.

Being surrounded by humans, especially humans who are together because of a new baby, compounded with his recent interactions with the alpha, makes Dean’s loneliness sharper, harder to ignore. He rolls his eyes at himself when he starts to think about it, because he’s  _ fine. _ It’s just… It would be nice to have someone who understands. Another Were, ideally, who understands why pups are a sore subject.

He shoves the thought aside and goes to work.

When he gets there, Rufus announces that he’s making Garth stay home for another week. Dean is grateful that humans’ noses are basically useless and none of them can smell how conflicted he is. He’s happy for Garth, the dorky little dude is going to make a good dad, but Dean craves being around another Were.

He  _ wants _ to be with Cain. He’s worried that the time away from the forest will make the alpha think he’s lost interest, but there’s nothing he can do about that. Cain didn’t even leave a cell phone number on the form he filled out for the work Dean did on his truck (not that he checked or anything). He has no way of contacting the other Were, and even if he did, what the hell would he say?

_ Hey, I know we’ve only seen one another’s human faces one time, but I’m already a big fan and also I’m kinda lonely in my self-imposed exile. Wanna hang out and let me sniff you? _

Yeah. No.

He’s on his lunch break when the solution hits him like a lightning bolt. Gripping his sandwich in one hand, he uses his other to pull his cell phone from his jumpsuit pocket and pull up his messaging app.

Cas seems genuinely happy to hear from him, even if it’s a little dry. Either way, just texting the beta for a few moments soothes Dean in a vibrant, indescribable way. They make plans to meet for dinner somewhere in the middle the next night, and Cas swears himself to secrecy before Dean can ask him to keep the plans under wraps. The reasons that Castiel Novak is his best friend are many and varied.

The promise of seeing Cas carries Dean through the day until he collapses into bed, exhausted but mostly satisfied.

* * *

That Friday night, Dean drives the thirty minutes to the diner he and Cas chose, a little giddy. He thought about going to the forest tonight, just to see if Cain is there, but he doesn’t want to be late, and he doesn’t want to be thinking about missing dinner with Cas while he’s hanging out with Cain. It’s not fair to anyone.

He pulls into the parking lot moments after Cas. He pulls Baby in right next to Cas’ pimpmobile, his cheeks already aching from the grin on his face. It gets impossibly wider when Cas gets out, his trademark trench coat thrown over a t-shirt, jeans, and sneakers. His hair is fuck-all wild, just as always, and his eyes are squinty and suspicious when they land on Dean.

“Why are you smiling?” he grumps. “Do you  _ know _ how much highway driving I just had to do?”

The fact that Cas hates driving at all, but especially any faster than forty miles an hour, makes it mean about a hundred times more that he’s  _ here. _ Dean never said specifically how he was feeling, but he knows Cas knows somehow. Cas always knows somehow.

Dean quickly rounds the pimpmobile and sweeps Cas up into his arms, crushing him against his chest. Cas grunts unhappily, but it’s only a beat later that he’s got his arms around Dean, too, just as fiercely as Dean is hugging him. Cas’ comforting beta scent, always underlined a little with paint and turpentine, envelopes him easily, making tension he didn’t realize he was carrying on his shoulders disappear.

“Missed you,” he says gruffly into Cas’ shoulder.

Cas’ arms tighten briefly. “You, too.” His gravelly voice is equally as rough with emotions.

When they finally part, Dean is still grinning and Cas’ face has softened. “You look good, man.”

Cas rolls his eyes. “You’ve only been gone for four months, you boob. I look the same.”

“But  _ I _ look better, right?” Dean says with an obnoxious waggle of his eyebrows.

Cas smiles for real now. “You do, actually. You really do.”

* * *

It’s after they’ve ordered (burgers, bacon for Dean and a double order of fries for Cas) that Cas apparently decides to pounce.

“Do you have a mate now?”

Dean almost drops the beer he’s drinking out of.  _ “What? _ No!  _ What? _ No!”

“Hmm.”

“Don’t you godsdamn hum at me, you dick. Do I smell mated to you?”

Cas arches an imperial brow. “You  _ smell _ like an  _ alpha.” _

How is that even possible? Dean hasn’t seen Cain in close to three weeks, there’s no  _ way _ he still smells like him. Okay, okay,  _ maybe _ the t-shirt he wore to work that day remains wadded up under his pillow instead of getting washed, but it doesn’t have any scent left after so long. Hell, now it’s more about Dean being lazy than any real comfort he’s drawing from his own shirt.

But Cas’ nose has always been wicked good, and Dean’s reaction has as good as outed him as having a secret, anyway.

He heaves a sigh. “His name is Cain, and we are  _ not _ mated.”

“Tell me about this not-mate Cain, then.”


	5. Chapter Five

Dean feels about a hundred times better the day after Cas’ visit. They stayed at their booth in the diner until well after midnight. Their server, cheerful at the beginning of his overnight shift, kept the fries and the chocolate shakes coming for hours while the two Weres caught up. They made sure to leave him a _very_ hefty tip.

So his heart is light the next morning when he pulls into the clearing where he always parks Baby. He whistles as he strips, stows his clothes, and buries his keys. Those things done, he Shifts and takes off running toward the meadow.

When he gets there, he whines in the back of his throat. There are fading scent-marks all over the woods, specifically in what he thinks of as _their_ meadow. More alpha in pursuit, layered with tinges of curiosity and disappointment. Dean whines again and flattens his ears against his skull. He can only hope Cain hasn’t completely lost interest in him.

Once he’s smelled his fill, he begins his own scent-marking. He concentrates on his own interest, his own desire, and lets a little bit of regret slip into his scent, too. Scent-marking is a fairly thorough form of communication, but what combination really says _I’m still really into you, please don’t be mad that I disappeared for weeks,_ and _please still want me_ without being incredibly needy?

When the meadow smells as much like him as he’s going to be able to make it, he stalls. He sniffs around, double-checks his markings, rolls around in the grass, chases some squirrels around. He ends up just lying down, ears pricked for sounds of Cain. He stays there for a long time.

Even without the _(his)_ alpha, the woods are peaceful. Once the family of squirrels stops chittering chastisements, they go back to whatever business squirrels have. The sounds of a hundred little creatures doing the same fill the forest. The leaves rustle in the wind, shaking one another and creating a sort of white noise effect that makes it easy for Dean to zone out as he waits. A rabbit hops through the end of the clearing, but he’s so relaxed that he makes no move to chase.

Finally, he stands, stretches, and admits defeat. He’s lucked out more than once when it comes to Cain being in the woods, he shouldn’t be this upset about missing the alpha this time. With one final rub to a tree trunk, he makes his way back to Baby.

He has the Impala in his sight when he’s hit from the side. _Alpha_ fills his scent, but it’s the wrong one. He rolls to his feet, ears perked forward and tail high in the air, to face his attacker.

She’s bigger than he is in this form (which she will _never_ let him live down), and her fur is even redder than his, true to her human form, too. She yips happily and charges him again. Dean lets her hit him and rolls with Charlie’s “attack,” playfully biting at her scruff and shoulders as they wrestle. He keeps them strategically away from the woods, away from where he’s marked his scent for _his_ alpha. No sense in mucking this whole thing with Cain up any further.

Eventually, they come to a stop, chests heaving and eyes sparkling. By silent, mutual agreement, they Shift back. Charlie stands in front of him, eyes sparkling and her hair wild around her face. _She got a haircut._

“‘Sup, o-fearless-leader-become-runaway?” Charlie asks cheerfully, giving him the Vulcan salute.

Dean rolls his eyes but returns the salute easily. “What are you doing here?”

She scoffs. “Rude.”

Another eye roll, but he comes forward to hug her briefly and press a kiss to her forehead, as easy in nudity as all Weres are. “Hiya, kiddo,” he says softly before straightening and planting his hands on his hips. “What are you doing here?”

“Cas said you were having some trouble!” she defends. “So I found you so I could make sure you’re doing okay.”

“And there was no part of the ‘I don’t want to be found’ part of my exodus that made you think I wouldn’t be down for this plan?”

Charlie shrugs, but her blush and the scent of embarrassment gives her away. “I mean, it’s also that I maybe missed you the teensiest, itsiest bit.”

Dean sighs, but his lips quirk up into a smile. “All right, all right.” He waves his hand. “Come on. I’ll take you to breakfast and you can see my place. But this is _in the Chamber of Secrets,_ Charlie, you hear me? _No one_ from the pack knows.”

She nods. “Of course. Chamber. Total secrecy. I’m here for it.”

“Let’s go, then, you fucking nut.”

She grins and laces her fingers through his as they make their way to the Impala. “You like it.”

“Do not,” he lies. He squeezes her hand a bit and lets her swing their arms between them as they walk.

“Liar.” Her eyes become sly. “Sooo, _Cas_ says there’s an _alpha.”_

“Godsdammit! The _Chamber!_ _”_

* * *

Dean spends the day with Charlie since it’s Saturday and he has nothing to do, anyway. He tells her about the last few weeks, the loneliness and the wish for another Were to be around.

“We’re pack creatures, idiot,” she says firmly after smacking him over the head. “Even if it’s just seeing me or Cas every couple of weeks, you can’t just totally cut all Weres out of your life.”

“Well. I didn’t cut _all_ Weres out,” he protests, rubbing the back of his head.

He tells her a little bit about Cain. She squeals and gasps in the right places, and takes to hitting him in the arm when she gets excited throughout the story. Dean laughs and defends himself, but tells her everything. If he had to list another person he’d classify as “best friend,” Charlie Bradbury would be that person. Especially since she _knows_ he usually prefers Cas, and that he can be around Cas longer, and she’s cool with that.

She stays long enough for Dean to make her lunch, too, before he kicks her out. He swears her to secrecy again as far as his whereabouts, then hugs the air out of her before she goes.

Once he’s seen her safely off in her little yellow VW, Dean beelines for his bed. He strips his clothes off on his way there, leaving them strewn in a trail through the apartment. He flops onto the bed, burrows beneath the cool sheets, and falls asleep almost instantly.

* * *

It’s not that he doesn’t love Charlie, because he _does._ He’d die for her, just like he would for Cas, but gods bless it, the girl is _exhausting._ Hanging out with her is always a blast, and he adores it, but it’s always best if he has some time to prep himself before spending time with Charlie. She’s a whirlwind of energy and talking and _doing._ Often, she’s a bit much for Dean’s introverted self, which is why she takes no offense to him preferring Cas, and why he does, in fact, prefer the surly beta.

If he doesn’t get time to prepare, he tends to crash right after hanging out with her. Hence, the post-Charlie nap right after she left.

He stretches and groans when he wakes up, thoroughly tangled in the sheets. When he looks at the clock, it’s almost ten at night. He knows that he should do laundry, make a grocery list, clean up after Charlie being here, and re-scent his home. There’s a lot to do, and if he puts it off until tomorrow, he’s going to regret it.

It really only takes a split second for him to decide. He throws his clothes back on and is out the door less than ten minutes after he wakes up.

He hits a Taco Bell on the way out, since he’s starving, and eats as he drives to the woods. Once he’s there, he barely manages to get all of his wrappers back into the bag before he opens the door and steps out into the parking lot. He completes his normal ritual of putting his clothes up and burying his keys, then he’s Shifted and running through the trees to the meadow.

Before he makes it halfway, he hears a vicious snarl behind him, and the scent of possessive, angry alpha washes over him. Dean flings himself to the ground and rolls onto his back, baring his belly for Cain when he comes thundering up. The alpha sniffs him suspiciously, but Dean is too happy that Cain is _here_ to care what he’s doing right now. His tail is tucked and his ears are back, but he’s panting and grinning and he knows his scent reflects his delight. He basks in his alpha’s attention, regardless of the reason.

With a final huff, Cain nudges him to roll over. Dean gets to his feet eagerly and starts to sniff and lick at Cains jaw and neck, nuzzling his alpha. He can smell the relief flooding his own scent. It’s a little embarrassing, but he’s too excited to care too much, and it’s reflected a bit in Cain’s scent, sort of underneath all of the angry, possessive smell.

Cain turns and starts to trot away, and Dean follows happily. He tries to puzzle out why Cain still smells so mad as the initial euphoria brought on by the alpha’s presence begins to wane.

When they get back to the meadow, Cain pushes him over onto his back again. Dean goes easily, wondering what’s going on. Cain starts nuzzling Dean’s belly, hips, chest, and beneath his forelegs.  He’s very thorough in his exploration, huffing irritated breaths out as he goes. His ears are against his skull.

The answer occurs to him as Cain starts meticulously grooming the fur beneath Dean’s neck and jaw. Amusement and joy overtake his scent completely and he huffs out the closest thing he can get to a laugh in this form. Cain, who has apparently realized that Dean knows what he’s doing, gives him the stink eye, but continues to rub, lick, and in any other way possible completely cover Dean in his scent.

 _I smell like another alpha, like Charlie. He’s_ jealous.

Dean rolls over cheerfully when Cain is done with his belly. When the alpha starts to groom the top of his head and ears, he tilts up and starts to lick at the bottom of Cain’s jaw and his neck, whimpering a little. He offers submission and a sort of amused apology in his scent. It makes Cain huff, but forgiveness and contentedness are in the alpha’s warm scent as they lazily groom one another.

Finally, after what seems like hours, Cain lies down next to Dean. The omega turns so his back is pressed against the alpha and stretches his legs, sprawling out against the grass. Cain is nuzzling his face gently, and with the warmth at his back and the safe, happy scent of his alpha surrounding him, it’s incredibly easy for Dean to fall asleep again.


	6. Chapter Six

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \- *heart eyes at you guys for not shouting at me for such a long wait between chapters*

“Dean!”

Dean barely manages to keep from banging his head on the hood of the sedan he’s working on when Rufus’ voice clangs through the shop.

 _“What?”_ he snaps. When he stands and looks around, Rufus is in the doorway to the shop, rolling his eyes. “Shut it,” the old human grumbles, but the look in his eyes spells trouble for Dean. “You’ve got a visitor.”

Dean’s eyebrows go up in surprise. _Who the hell?_

“That nice _farmer_ is here to see you again.”

Not even the mocking tone of Rufus’ voice is enough to stop the way Dean’s heart thuds with excitement. He grins wide even as he feels his cheeks heat with a blush. His inner omega is doing cartwheels in his chest. _Alpha is here!_

Garth and Ash are catcalling and whooping, but Dean ignores them to hurry into the small shop bathroom and wash his hands. Without several minutes he won't be able to get all of the grease and oil off, but it’s good enough for now. His instincts are demanding that he preen and prepare for his alpha, but he just wants to get out there to see Cain.

When he finally enters the lobby, Cain is looking at a section of the wall where there are several pictures of the crew hanging on the wall. They’re random candid shots of each of them, interspersed with photos of cars they’ve worked on and a couple of local celebrities who’ve been there.

Cain is focused on one of the photos, a shot of Dean leaning against his Baby. His arms are crossed and he’s smirking at whoever is holding the camera. It’s a good one, or at least Dean thinks it’s all right.

Dean takes the opportunity to once again take in Cain’s human form. His hair isn’t tied back this time, but it still manages to look neat as it frames his handsome, strong face, one side tucked behind his ear. He's wearing a checkered button-down shirt and dark jeans. It’s making Dean’s mouth water.

Can turns, as it sensing Dean’s attention. His light blue eyes glow, and his mouth is ticked up into a small smile on one side.

“Dean,” he says, voice deep and warm.

Dean is still outright grinning. “Hiya, Cain.” He crosses the lobby to stand next to the alpha. “What’s up? Why the surprise visit?”

The scent of pleased alpha mingles with hopefulness and a bit of shyness. The combination is heady, and it’s making Dean a little lightheaded even as he leans subtly closer.

Cain presents Dean with a small glass jar with a pristine ribbon tied around it with a bow. Thick, golden honey sparkles in the evening rays of sunlight. Cain gives him another small smile and the implications steal the breath from Dean’s lungs.

“Is… Is this…”

“It is. If you’re amenable, that is.”

Dean’s grin is back full-force. “Oh, hell _yes_ I’m amenable, alpha,” he says softly enough that the humans won’t be able to overhear.

A gift from an unmated alpha to an unmated omega is a very old-fashioned, traditional statement of the intention to court. Dean may have been a little put off by the gesture from someone else, but it doesn’t come off as condescending or sexist from Cain. Every interaction has shown Dean that Cain views them as equals. Plus, it’s not like Dean has anything he could have given as a courting gift. He’s glad Cain took the first step.

The pleased alpha scent gets stronger and Cain straightens up a little, obviously letting his alpha take over a bit. Dean smiles and lets his own happy scent flood the room, too.

“Good, that’s good,” Cain says. “May I formally ask you to accompany me to dinner, then? In our human skins this time, I think."

“Absolutely.”

They exchange phone numbers and shy smiles. Cain gently cups Dean’s face in a calloused hand and caresses his cheekbone with his thumb before promising to call him with details and taking his leave.

It’s totally worth the ribbing he gets from his team about the permanent blush he’s sporting for the rest of the day.

* * *

 **From: Cain  
** Dean, how does this Saturday work for our date?

Dean grins down at his phone. He’s only been off of work for an hour, so it’s only been a little longer than that since he’s seen Cain. He likes that the alpha doesn’t seem to want to play any stupid games. He may be younger than Cain (which is the opposite of a problem), but Dean’s too old for that shit. He knows what he wants.

 **To: Cain  
** saturday works great

He only has to wait a couple of minutes for a response.

 **From: Cain  
** Wonderful. There’s a restaurant on the corner of 8th and Wornall we can meet at. Would 7p be agreeable?

 _My alpha texts like a college professor,_ Dean thinks with a smirk. He doesn’t remember a restaurant at that intersection, but he trusts Cain. He’s lived here longer than Dean has, after all.

 **To: Cain  
** works for me alpha

 **From: Cain  
** I’ll see you then, Dean.

Dean goes to bed that night with a smile on his face.

* * *

The afternoon of his date, a couple of hours before he’s supposed to meet Cain for dinner, however, Dean definitely does _not_ have a smile on his face.

He’s pacing the perimeter of his bedroom with a towel wrapped around his waist. What is quite possibly the entirety of his wardrobe is tossed onto his bed and around the floor.

_Fuck._

The thing is, Dean’s never been on a _date_ date. Ketch, who was the closest thing Dean’s ever had to a long-term partner, barely even fit the title “boyfriend,” and they definitely never went out on any dates. Dean was too damn busy for the last few years to worry about dating, and even before then, it was about one-night stands rather than getting to know someone.

So Dean has no _fucking_ idea what to do on a date, or what to wear, or why the hell someone would want to date someone like him.

In all things, Cas is his first go-to.

“What?” the beta grumbles as he answers. The horrible music in the background tells Dean that Cas is probably knee-deep in paint right now.

“Cas,” he says desperately, “Cain asked me out on a date.”

“... Good for you?” The question is clear in Cas’ voice.

“No, godsdamn it!” Dean snarls. “Cas, I’ve never been on a date! What the hell am I supposed to wear? What do I _do?”_

There’s a beat of incredulous silence before Cas says slowly, “Dean, how the hell would I know? Specifically, how would _I,_ an aro-asexual beta, know what an omega and an alpha do on a date?”

Dean’s brain short-circuits for a moment before he growls again. _“Fuck!”_

He can almost _hear_ Cas rolling his eyes. “Call Charlie, you dolt. Call me after to let me know how it goes.” The line goes dead.

Dean stares at his phone for a moment, flummoxed, before he hits his second speed dial and puts it back to his ear mechanically.

“‘Sup, bitch?” Charlie answers cheerfully.

Her happy voice is like a balm on his worried mind. “Charlie, Cain asked me out on a date.”

 _“Get_ it, Dean!” she cheers. “Wait, why do you sound like you’re being held at gunpoint? This is a good thing! Go forth and fuck like bunnies, my omega friend.”

“No, Charlie, I don’t…” He takes a deep breath. “I’ve… Uh, never been.” There are things he can admit to Cas no problem, but it’s a bit more embarrassing to anyone else. He’s close to thirty, for fuck’s sake.

“On a date?”

“Uh, right.”

“What?”

Dean rubs the back of his neck, feeling it and the tips of his ears heat up. “I just… I mean, the last couple of years have been kinda busy, so there really hasn’t been time.”

“Ketch never…”

Dean barks out a laugh. “Uh, no. Not even close.”

Sympathy creeps into her tone. “Oh, Dean.”

Dean groans. “Don’t, Charlie. Please? Just help me. I don’t know what the hell to do on a date.”

“All right, buttercup.” Her voice is suddenly hard as stone. “You listen to me right now, Dean Winchester. You are going to stop freaking out because you are a _catch._ You’re going to be your normal sarcastic, funny, loving self, and he is gonna fall head over heels for you in the first eighteen seconds of this date. If he doesn’t, he’s a fool, but he will. Got me?”

Surprised, Dean blinks. “Uh…”

“I’m not taking no for an answer, Winchester. I love you to pieces, and Cain will, too, because there is just no other option once someone has met you.”

Dean smiles. He’s surprised, maybe, but not by her vehemence. Charlie does nothing halfway, from LARPing to loving someone. “Yes, ma’am.”

“Damn right. Now, walk me through our wardrobe choices.”

* * *

When Dean pulls up to the intersection Cain gave him, he feels a billion times better.

Charlie talked him down, then talked him into clothes, hair gel, and mouthwash before rushing him out the door (how she does that over the phone, he’ll never understand). Dressed in a black henley, light wash jeans, and his leather jacket, he feels good, he feels like himself.

 _Thank the gods for Charlie Bradbury,_ he thinks as he finds the parking lot and pulls in.

There’s only one vehicle there, Cain’s truck. Dean pulls up next to it and steps out of the Impala, trying and failing to hide a smirk. Cain is leaning against his truck, hands in his pockets, staring at an empty, boarded-up building.

Dean again takes the opportunity to check the alpha out. He’s in another button-down shirt, although this one is some dark color Dean can’t make out in the evening lack of light, and a pair of jeans. He has a leather coat similar to Dean’s on, although it’s more like a duster than anything. Dean leans up against Cain’s truck right next to the alpha so their arms are pressed together. The alpha is radiating heat.

There are a few moments of silence before Cain says thoughtfully, “The last time I was in town for any length of time, this was a rather nice Italian restaurant.”

Dean chuckles. He can see where it would have been a nice place, but the building has definitely been empty for ages. The boards are rotting, one of the windows is clearly broken, and there’s an unmistakable air of neglect around the place.

“And how long ago was that?”

“... Quite a while,” Cain admits.

Dean laughs and bumps Cain with his shoulder, looking over and grinning. “Come on, alpha. We can still salvage this date.”


	7. Chapter Seven

_Ding!_

The cheerful sound of a bell hung above the door greets Dean and Cain when they enter Lafitte’s Pies, a pizzeria a few blocks from Dean’s apartment. The restaurant is obviously old and a bit worn, but clean and well-loved. Dean first came in because he was craving pizza, but he kept coming because of how strongly it reminds him of The Roadhouse.

(Okay… Maybe he’s starting to miss his pack a _little._ Not enough to go back, but maybe it’s time to give Ellen a call.)

Benny, the owner of the shop, looks up and grins at the sight of them. “Hey, brotha!”

Dean smiles. “Hiya, Benny. Got an open booth for me?”

“For you, cher? Anything.”

Dean rolls his eyes at his friend’s theatrics and leads Cain to an empty booth. When they slide in, he catches a whiff of curiosity and jealousy. At his cocked eyebrow, Cain has the grace to look sheepish.

“You’ve come here before,” he rumbles softly.

Dean nods. “Yeah, I’m not a big home cooker.”

When Cain smiles, the corners of his eyes wrinkle rather attractively. Dean wants to see more of it.

“That’s all right,” the alpha replies. “I’m a fairly good cook, myself.”

There’s no more of that jealousy in the air, for which Dean is grateful. Some alphas can get territorial past the point of health or safety. After how Cain reacted to Charlie’s scent, it’s good to see him restraining himself. Though being the recipient of a friendly greeting is a far cry from being covered in another alpha’s scent, it’s a positive sign regardless.

Dean decides to put the poor guy out of his misery when Benny comes to take their order. As the big human comes to their table, Dean keeps eye contact with Cain and smirks.

“Benny, how’s the wife?” he asks casually. There’s relief in Cain’s scent, and his smile is rueful.

“Oh, pregnant as hell, brotha,” Benny answers, happy and oblivious.

“Good, good. Give her a kiss for me, will ya?”

“Sure thing. What can I get y’all?”

They quickly settle on Benny’s special spicy meat lover’s, during which Dean manages _not_ to make a dirty joke, because this is a date, gods bless it. Dean also asks for a couple of Benny’s home-brewed ales, which he brings happily before making himself scarce.

_Smart human._

The two of them make small talk while they wait, stuff Dean assumes is normal first date material. Funny stories from their jobs, likes and dislikes, Cain shamelessly flattering Dean until he’s a blushing, stammering mess.

It’s nice. _Really_ nice.

Somehow, though, even when stories about their families turn into heavier subjects, it’s still kind of nice.

“So when Dad got sick, Sam was at school, and there was no one else to run things,” Dean says, staring down at his beer bottle. “So I just… Took care of it. ‘Lead the pack,’ or whatever.”

Cain nods. “An impressive undertaking.”

“An _exhausting_ one, more like,” Dean snorts. “There was just… There was always a fire to put out. Always someone who needed something. Between not wanting anyone to challenge Dad, since he was in no shape to fight _anything,_ and wanting to avoid a fight of my own, I couldn’t say ‘no.’ I think I had one meal by myself the whole time, and that was because I hid under the covers.”

Cain chuckles and the sound sends pleasant shivers down Dean’s spine. A moment goes by before Cain sobers.

“Forgive me for saying so, but you seem… Not ill-suited, but as if you did not enjoy leadership overmuch.”

“I _didn’t,”_ Dean admits freely. “I hated it. I was responsible for so much drama, so many lives. Everything that went wrong landed on my doorstep. I had to defend every choice, _especially_ because I’m an omega. I never had time to myself, never time to… Unclench?” He frowns. “I sound kind of like a prick when I say it like that.”

Cain is already shaking his head. “No, you sound like someone who selflessly put the needs of their pack above their own comfort.” He smiles, and it’s kind and warm. “You’re remarkable, Dean. Not everyone would have done what you did.”

Dean feels himself start to blush again and he shrugs. “Just did what had to be done.”

“Admirably, it would seem.”

 _Okay,_ they’re getting into the territory of Dean’s self-esteem deficit, a place Dean does _not_ want to go right now. After being so honest he’s feeling a little raw, and the urge to deflect will not be denied.

“How about you? Why are you out here without a pack?”

Cain’s scent turns careful, his face slipping into a blank mask. Dean’s heart sinks. _Dammit._ His first first date, his first date with _Cain,_ and he’s already fucking it up.

“I want to tell you,” the alpha says slowly. He looks around the restaurant significantly, which has filled up since they came in. “But perhaps not here.”

Now Dean’s intrigued. They polished off the pizza long ago, and have had a couple more beers each. So Dean nods and signals for the check.

“Lead the way.”

* * *

They end up in the clearing Dean usually parks in when he Shifts. They’re in the bed of Cain’s truck, lying on a blanket, so close their shoulders press together.

So much of his time as a wolf is spent looking down, scenting or tracking something, that Dean completely missed how gorgeous the stars are out here. It’s an almost ecstatic beauty, with so many of them shining down. For a long time, he’s content to stare up at them, soak in the silence, and wallow in their combined scents.

Eventually, Cain begins to speak.

“My pack is from the Appalachian Mountains. They are… Very old, centuries, most likely. They are also very traditional, old-fashioned. Omegas are for breeding, betas are for working and hunting, and alphas are for leading.

“There is only one alpha per pack. Any pups who present as such are expected to leave to start their own packs. The current Alpha decides whether or not any friends or loved ones will be permitted to go with them.”

Dean snorts. “Sexist bullshit.”

Cain rolls with the interruption. “Indeed. My father was the pack Alpha. He was a hard man, dedicated to his beliefs more than any of his pups, or any of the omegas who bore them.

“Growing up, I was close with only my brother, Abel. He was younger by a few years than I, my only full-blooded brother.  We were inseparable as pups.”

Dean thinks of he and Sam and smiles.

“The night I presented,” Cain continues, “my father died.”

_“Gods.”_

“It was said, yes, that it was by divine decree. I was fated to be the Alpha for the Primis pack, to lead us to new prosperity, strength, and wealth. I didn’t particularly desire that kind of responsibility, I was only sixteen, but I took it on. It was what was expected of me.

“I must not have realized what a toll it took on Abel.” Sorrow laces Cain’s scent and his voice. He makes no discernable effort to hide it. “I may have been too busy, too caught up in my new role. Whatever was happening, Abel was suffering. He became… _Obsessed_ with being Alpha.

“He presented as such a few years into my leadership. I remember this very clearly. I was coming back from settling a housing dispute when Abel confronted me in a clearing, in what would have amounted to a town square, if such things were had on mountainsides. He stank of rut and his eyes looked demonic. He was raving about how _he_ was supposed to be Alpha, how _he_ was to lead the pack.

“I had no idea he felt so strongly about it. I wasn’t particularly enjoying the post, anyway, and I had never really liked most of the pack, save Abel himself. It was a relief to offer to step down and leave. I would have missed my brother, but I fancied we would still see one another on occasion.

“Abel was… _Unhinged_ by the offer. He was furious, accused me of thinking him weak or unworthy. Before I could argue, he Shifted and attacked me.”

Dean sucks in a shocked breath. He’s completely enthralled in Cain’s story.

“I hardly had time to Shift, too, and defend myself. We fought for a long time, for as long as it took me to realize that, though I was holding back, Abel was actively trying to kill me. While the whole pack watched.”

“They were just _watching?”_ Dean asks, appalled.

“Apparently, we put on quite a show,” Cain says dryly, though pain is still very present in the words. “Eventually, I realized that Abel wasn’t going to stop. I tried to break away a few times, but he didn’t let me. It became apparent that the fight would only end one way.”

Cain falls silent again, and Dean lets him, but he presses closer until the alpha gets the hint and lifts his arm. Dean plasters himself against Cain, laying an arm across his trim waist and resting his head on his broad chest. Cain huffs in surprise (a rather wolflike sound, actually), but soon gathers Dean close.

After long, quiet minutes, he speaks again.

“I killed my brother. And after that, I ran, and the pack parted to let me go. I don’t know if it’s because they were so used to getting out of my way, or because they didn’t want me there any more than I wanted to be there, but I didn’t care. I still don’t, not really.

“I wanted to run until I stopped being so horrified, so upset, until it stopped _hurting_ that Abel would do that to me. That my own brother would… By the time I figured out that distance would solve nothing, I was in Kansas. I Shifted back, stole some clothing, and got lucky enough to get a job on the farm.

“I was nineteen, terrified, and _angry,_ but the land sorted me out, as did the isolation. The human I worked for was elderly, and when he passed, he left the farm to me.”

Cain is running his fingers through Dean’s hair soothingly now as he speaks.

“And so here I am. I suppose we are similar in our lack of desire for a pack. I never wanted to lead, and I fear my experience has so soured me that I have no desire to be a part of an active pack. I’m lucky in that I’m an alpha, and so no one questions my desire for solitude, archaic as the notion is.”

Cain takes a deep breath. A nervous tang invades his scent. “I’ll understand if my tale puts you off of seeing me, Dean.”

Dean blinks, then props himself up on his elbow to stare incredulously down at the alpha. “What? Dude, no. You were put in an impossible situation.”

“I killed my brother.”

“In self-defense.”

Cain frowns, but his scent is getting lighter. “I abandoned the pack I was supposed to protect.”

“They watched someone try to kill you!” Dean shakes his head. “Cain, that’s not what a pack should be like. They’re supposed to challenge the Alpha, question his shitty decisions, sure, but they’re supposed to support him, too. Like, our Council drove me crazy, but they always had my back. It sounds like your old pack was… Fucking awful. Too busy worrying about tradition to worry about each other.” Dean smiles. “Kind of a miracle you turned out as good as you did, actually.”

Cain’s eyes are gleaming, and he says slowly, “I would very much like to kiss you now.”

Instead of answering, Dean closes the gap between them. Cain’s lips are warm and soft against his own. They kiss gently, tentatively, a silent understanding between them that it will go no further tonight. It’s not earth-shattering, kissing Cain for the first time, but it fills Dean up, makes him feel warm and cared for.

After long moments of losing himself in kissing, Dean leans back a bit to smile down at him.

“I’m not going anywhere, alpha.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \- Poor Cain. :(


	8. Chapter Eight

As it turns out, dating Cain is easy.

There's a beautiful simplicity to being in the alpha’s company. They talk about everything that comes to mind, but share long, comfortable silences, too. There’s no arguing about who’s paying the bill when they go out (they alternate), or about who will cook when they stay in (almost always Cain). Their scents and lives mingle seamlessly without angst or drama.

_ Easy. _

* * *

Dean signs them up for a beginner’s knitting class at the local library for his first turn at choosing their destination for “date night” (an idea that simultaneously makes him roll his eyes and feel all gooey on the inside). Charlie does it all the time, so it can’t be that bad, and he’s looking forward to Cain’s reaction.

They find out that Cain is a natural, though. All of the women coo over him, and Dean just knows he’s pumping out territorial omega scent all over the place. They’re the only Weres, of course, so the only one who can tell is Cain. The alpha doesn’t mention it, but his scent gets stronger and more comforting and content as the night goes on. It’s a little embarrassing, how clearly his jealousy is being telegraphed, but it’s sweet how Cain tries to make him feel better.

It mollifies Dean, at least until it sinks in that he’s fucking  _ awful _ at knitting. He has to be cut out of the tangle his yarn has become at the end of the night. Only Cain’s deep, soft laughter keeps Dean from being truly miffed.

That, and the fact that Cain gives him the scarf he makes as a gift when it’s finished.

* * *

Cain’s first choice is a drive-in movie, much to Dean’s delight. The alpha confesses that he’s a fan of old westerns, so they curl together in a pile of Dean’s blankets in the bed of Cain’s truck. They kick off their shoes and cuddle close while John Wayne drawls and rides and shoots on the giant projector. Or, so Dean assumes, since he spends most of the movie nuzzling Cain’s neck. He gets drunk and sleepy off his alpha’s scent and the way Cain kisses his temple and keeps his arm tight around Dean.

Dean sleeps through the last half of the movie. Cain doesn’t seem to mind.

* * *

The next week, Dean capitalizes on his new knowledge of Cain’s preference by taking them to a small town theater thirty minutes out of the city that’s showing an all-day Clint Eastwood marathon. They can’t go  _ all _ day since one of Cain’s crops is being harvested and he can’t get away for that long (which he profusely and unnecessarily apologizes for), but they manage to get there in late afternoon.

Dean feels like a teenager, moreso than when he  _ was _ a teenager. They share popcorn, hold hands, and put the arm of the theater seats up so they can press up against one another. Cain’s arm ends up draped across Dean’s shoulder, which both pulls them closer together and covers Dean in Cain’s scent.

Dean doesn’t manage to pay much attention to those movies, either.

* * *

Cain surprises Dean by taking him to a car show that comes to town a week after the marathon. Dean knows he looks like an idiot as he flits from car to car, taking in the view of each beautiful engine, but he can’t help himself. He talks to owners, mechanics, and engineers. A few of them even come outside to take a look at Baby, much to Dean’s delight.

The whole time Cain stands back a little, smiling and content to watch Dean. They get a few dark looks and muttered slurs when they get close, or when Dean presses a kiss to Cain’s cheek, but they both ignore it. (Humans draw strange lines for what is and is not acceptable, and Dean has long since decided not to try to understand it.) It goes no further than gentle, strictly PG-rated affection, but it keeps the assholes unhappy, which keeps Dean smug and satisfied.

* * *

No matter how much he comes to enjoy the date night tradition, however, Dean much prefers the nights they stay at home.

Only a few days after their first date, they fall easily and quickly into the habit of spending almost every night together. Sometimes they stay at Dean’s apartment, but to his surprise, he prefers Cain’s farm. Something about the two of them being out there, isolated from the noise and movement of the city proper, appeals to every part of him.

Primis Farmstead and Apiary is  _ huge, _ several sprawling acres. They’re all neatly organized into big, separate crops, plus the beehives closer to the house. There’s an enormous map dominating one of the kitchen walls that shows where everything is planted. Cain explains crop rotation, irrigation systems, and projected weather patterns with an ease that speaks of long experience. It’s kind of hot, even if Dean retains absolutely none of what Cain says.

Despite not knowing what he’s doing, Dean happily helps Cain when he can, which is often. Almost every time he pulls up to the farm, Cain is out in the field, plowing or harvesting or baling something. Dean is usually tired from his own job, but working on the farm is a different kind of labor and comes with its own kind of tired. He hushes Cain’s protests and jumps in every time.

(He’s certain that he slows his alpha’s progress substantially, but Cain never complains.)

Once the day’s work is done, they both take quick (separate) showers, then Cain makes dinner if Dean hasn’t brought takeout with him. They talk, low and soft, about their days while they eat. Dean always does the cleanup, but doesn’t argue with Cain helps.

After dinner, they curl up on the couch under a heavy blanket that always makes Dean feel warm and sleepy right away. Sometimes they watch movies, but more often they read. Dean will prop his head on Cain’s thigh, and Cain will run gentle, distracted fingers through Dean’s hair while they get lost in separate stories.

It is, by far, the best part of each day.

* * *

They’re settling down on one of these nights when Cain says, rather absently, “I’ve become rather fond of the way the Impala looks parked in the front yard.”

The words, seemingly innocuous, hit Dean like a sledgehammer. His heart starts to pound and he has no  _ idea _ what his scent is doing to make Cain whip his head around to look at him with raised eyebrows.

_ Shit. _

“I think I’m falling in love with you,” Dean blurts.

_ Oh. Double shit. _

Before he can begin to really panic, Cain smiles.

“I know.”

Dean blinks. “You  _ know?” _

“Of course. It’s all over your scent, Dean.”

Dean blinks again, head spinning.  _ All over my… _ He spends just a second or two freaking out before Cain’s calm demeanor and happy scent cut through his racing thoughts.

Then he smiles, too.

* * *

But they don’t have sex.

Hell, they don’t even  _ kiss _ again except for seventh-grade pecks on the cheek or forehead (or, when Cain is feeling gallant and playful, the back of Dean’s hand). Sure, they cuddle or walk hand-in-hand, but things don’t get any more heated than that.

Dean doesn’t worry. They’ve talked about it, of course, and they both decided that taking it slow sounds best, that it feels right. It’s natural to keep their connection this tame for now.

Actually, it’s a novel experience for Dean. He spent so long running from place to place, hurrying from one person who needed him to the next, it’s mind-boggling to just take his time to get to know someone. Someone who apparently wants to get to know him just as badly.

So they take it slow, and they don’t mention sex.

_ Until. _

* * *

On the second day of a week-long vacation from the garage, Dean wakes up stupidly early. He’s covered in a light sweat, and there’s a pleasant, heavy ache low in his belly. His cock his already half hard. He can feel himself starting to get slick.

He groans and resists the urge to touch himself. It’s easy, since he has a  _ much _ better option just a text message away.

He’s alone in Cain’s bed, which is normal, since the alpha wakes up with the sun every morning to start work. Dean gives himself just a beat to inhale and revel in his alpha’s scent before he reaches over to grab his phone and fire off a quick text.

With that done, he rolls himself out of bed and stretches hard. His limbs are tingly and restless, and he shakes them out a little before he makes his way out of the bedroom and to the back door of the house. He doesn’t bother with clothes because he’s not going to need them.

Once he’s outside, he immediately Shifts. This form feels good, strong,  _ fast. _ Not as natural as his human form, but he knows he’ll get to Shift back soon.

For now, he takes off running.

One of the best things about Cain’s farm is that it’s right up against their little forest. Dean plunges into the trees without hesitation, confident now in the paths and obstacles since and his alpha have spent quite a bit of time exploring out here in both forms.

_ Alpha. _

Dean whines and runs faster, because he knows Cain will be following soon. Cain has spent a week preparing to take a few days off with Dean.

Because Dean is in  _ heat. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \- Have all the fluff and the promise of sex.


	9. Chapter Nine

Dean runs.

The pull and stretch of his muscles feels good, sates the need to  _ move _ that his heat is giving him. He howls and yips intermittently, running and leaping through the forest. The sun is shining down through the trees, and the air is crisp and cool. Dean is almost  _ giddy _ as he runs. This is the first time he’s had an alpha he trusts as much as he trusts Cain to help him through his heat and his blood is  _ singing _ in his veins.

He doesn’t slow down, though. Trust or not, his instincts are demanding that he make Cain prove himself as a strong, capable mate, and that the only way to do that is with a chase. Dean has always thought it was kind of dumb, but the thrilled hammering of his heart and the delight winding its way through his scent doesn’t lie. It’s kind of hot.

He got a head start, so it comes as a surprise when the thick, excited scent of  _ Cain _ and  _ alpha _ hits him like a freight train.  _ Damn, alpha’s fast. _ His inner omega positively whimpers in delight, but Dean’s fast, too.  _ Very _ fast. Humans, he’s found, have forgotten how truly fast wolves are, and Dean’s like a blur moving through the trees.

No matter how fast he is, however, and no matter how confident he feels in the forest now, Cain is  _ significantly _ bigger in this form, and this is  _ his _ territory. Dean doesn’t really stand a chance and he knows it. Hell, that’s kind of the point.

So it really probably  _ shouldn’t _ surprise him when Cain’s scent, thicker and sweeter in his arousal, is immediately followed by Dean being tackled by a wall of dark fur and solid muscle.

Dean rolls with the hit, barely managing to toss Cain off just enough so that he lands on his back. Cain’s on him in a second, though, and they roll again. They tussle without real aggression, snarling and nipping without heat. It’s like Dean can  _ feel _ Cain’s heart beating in tandem with his as they press together and pull apart again.

As hard as he fights, though, Cain is  _ big. _ He’s  _ huge, _ as a matter of fact, and there was always only going to be so long Dean was going to be able to hold the alpha off.

He finds himself on his belly with Cain over him, teeth pressed gently to the thick fur on the back of Dean’s neck. Dean stills, struggles for just a moment, just to feel Cain’s teeth sink in a little, to feel the big alpha growl against him. Once he’s satisfied that he’s well and truly held down, Dean relaxes completely. His alpha has proven himself, he’s earned Dean’s submission and his heat.

As soon as he stops struggling, by unspoken agreement, they both Shift.

The slide of Cain’s cool skin against Dean’s back makes him gasp and arch. Neediness that was being held off by his wolf form slams into him, and he whimpers, spreads his legs. He knows he looks wanton, maybe a little slutty, but the thought only spurs the heat in his belly more.

Cain’s mouth is replaced with his hand on the back of Dean’s neck, still pinning him to the soft earth in this form. He growls when Dean moans and uses his own knees to spread Dean’s legs wider. Once he’s apparently satisfied, he uses the hand not holding Dean’s neck to guide Dean’s hips up, pulling his knees beneath him. It feels easy and natural to arch his back and present to his alpha.

He feels a surge of triumph when Cain snarls approvingly. Cain leans over him and ruts against Dean’s ass, rubbing his long, thick cock against Dean’s swollen, dripping hole. Heat and cold flash through Dean rapidly, and he can feel himself break into a sweat. He digs his fingers into the earth beneath him.

_ “Dean,” _ Cain growls out. Dean can feel the slick start to slide down his thighs.

_ “Alpha.” _ Everything in him is on fire, desperate for Cain’s touch, for his knot.

“You look good like this,” Cain murmurs in a velvet voice, and Dean’s eyes roll back in his head, “on your knees and wet for me.”

“Oh,  _ gods.” _

The heat of Cain’s body disappears and when Dean looks back over his shoulder, Cain has sat back as much as he can while still holding Dean down, eyes raking over every part of his flushed body. Dean shudders and keens.

“Hmm, yes,” Cain rumbles behind him. Dean has no idea how Cain is so calm, but it’s  _ hot as fuck. _

“Look at you, love. So wet for me, desperate for it. Are you desperate, Dean?”

_ “Yes!” _

“Good, good,” Cain purrs, petting one big, calloused hand up and down Dean’s side, soothing the nigh painful burning beneath his skin. “Shh, shh, I’ve got you, I’ll take care of you, omega.”

The sound of Cain calling him by his subgender sends Dean’s heat into overdrive. They don’t talk much about their subgenders, outside of Dean calling Cain “alpha” to tease him. Normally, Dean isn’t terribly comfortable with having his brought to the forefront, since it doesn’t define or limit him and he’ll fight anyone who says it does.

This, however, is worlds apart from anything like that. This is the two of them, together, trusting one another to strip down to their instincts and let loose.

Right now, he doesn’t really feel like Dean, a mechanic who recently abdicated the position of Alpha. Here, with Cain, he just feels like an omega who wants his alpha.

“Alpha,” he whines as his belly cramps and the emptiness starts to become intolerable. “Please, need you now.”

Cain growls deep in his chest as Dean cants his hips and presents again.

_ “Mine.” _

“Yes, please, yours, alpha. Please, need you.”

Cain growls again and the hand at Dean’s side disappears as the alpha shifts behind him. Dean shudders and tries to spread his legs further, begging with everything he can. He feels the rumble of Cain’s next snarl in his chest when the alpha finally slots his cock between the cheeks of Dean’s ass, grinding just enough to make all of the air disappear from Dean’s lungs.

The fog of need and lust he’s in is making everything hazy and hard to concentrate on, but the soft-hard feel of Cain’s cock, along with the slowly swelling knot at the base, against the oversensitized flesh of Dean’s hole has the omega writhing against it, panting and whining shamelessly.

Cain leans over him again, the alpha’s strong chest pressed against his back. The hand on his neck finally lifts, only to be replaced by surprisingly gentle kisses and nips of Cain’s lips and teeth as the alpha wraps one arm around Dean’s waist. Cain rests his weight on his other elbow. His hair falls in a curtain around their faces when he presses hot, urgent kisses up Dean’s neck and runs his tongue along the shell of Dean’s ear.

“Alpha, please-” Dean gasps. His legs are trembling uncontrollably and his breath is harsh, raspy.

“Shh, love,” Cain says, low and sweet in his ear. “I’ve got you, shh.”

Finally,  _ finally, _ Cain presses the thick, blunt tip of his cock to Dean’s entrance and starts to push in, painfully slowly. Dean moans at the stretch, because  _ every _ part of Cain is big, but it’s so good he tilts back into it, whimpering as his inner muscles flutter and contract around Cain’s cock.

It seems like it takes forever for Cain’s hips to come flush against Dean’s ass, but he knows it can’t be more than a few seconds. Cain’s grip around his waist is like steel, not letting Dean rock back onto him to get more, or to pull forward to get the movement and friction he so desperately craves. It’s driving him  _ insane. _ The way Cain fills him up but isn’t actually  _ fucking _ him is sending his heat into a confused tailspin, somehow making him feel satisfied and desperately needy all at the same time.

His scent must reflect his growing unhappiness, because Cain’s nose gently brushes against the hinge of Dean’s jaw, down his neck, and to place where his shoulder curves up.

“Shh, love,” he says again, “I’ve got you.”

Cain starts off slow and sweet, just gentle rocking into Dean and back out of him. Dean moans, long and loud. Cain lets the arm he has around Dean’s waist loosen a little bit, which in turn lets Dean start to enthusiastically push back into each thrust.

Cain is patient, he always has been. Dean can normally push Cain for a  _ long _ time before he snaps. It’s an excellent quality in a partner, especially since Dean himself is a bit of a hothead.

But Dean has never met an alpha who wasn’t at least a little bit affected by a desperate, horny omega in heat, and lucky for him, Cain is no different. Maybe it’s because he’s an omega, maybe it’s because he’s just Dean. Regardless, the result is the same.

Dean goads Cain with his body to pick up the pace, and in what feels like no time at all Cain is kneeling again, his hands hard on Dean’s hips as he slams into him. Dean howls and pushes back into every thrust. The snarling coming from Cain’s chest is music to his ears, and he cherishes the fleeting thought that he’ll have bruises on his hips from his alpha’s fingers in the morning.

Heat and light and pleasure are building up in Dean, down low in his belly, and he’s starting to get frantic again. Cain is pounding into him, all growly alpha strength. Cain’s knot starts to swell more, and the alpha has to work harder to get himself in and out all the way.

Dean realizes that he’s dug his fingers into the earth up to the second knuckle and he’s doing sort of whimpery-growl thing as he pushes up and back against his alpha. Cain drapes himself over Dean again, changing the angle of his thrusts enough that Dean’s seeing stars. He can feel his orgasm starting to overtake him, already leaving him feeling gasping and used in the best way.

_ “Alpha,” _ he whimpers, canting his hips further, desperate for every bit of Cain he can get.

_ “Dean,” _ Cain purrs, a sort of motor-engine purr in his voice. “Are you going to come for me, love?”

“Yes, yes, yes, yes,  _ yes, yes, yes!” _

Dean’s world shatters into about a billion bits of light and sound. He’s certain he whites out, and he can feel his throat twinge as he screams his way through his orgasm.

As he does so, he can feel Cain’s knot finally swell so much that it’s impossible for the alpha to pull out as Cain comes. Cain presses his teeth against Dean’s neck, not breaking the skin but leaving what will probably be a pretty spectacular bruise. Dean savors the way Cain holds him down and fills him up, making his heat go lazy and sated for the time being as he comes down.

Cain eventually tips them gently over onto their sides. The forest floor provides enough cushion to be comfortable despite the fact that they’re locked together. Cain pulls Dean even closer, nuzzling at the bruise on his neck.

After several silent minutes, Dea sighs out,  _ “Godsdamn,” _ with a chuckle.

Cain huffs a laugh against his neck. “Indeed.”

Dean stretches as much as he can without dislodging Cain’s knot, then cuddles back against the alpha happily. “I’m ready to sleep for a week.”

One of Cain’s hands is tracing lazy, gentle circles on the skin of Dean’s belly. “A whole week, you think?”

Dean smiles and lets his eyes slip closed, feeling unconsciousness start to tug at him. “Well, at least for a couple of hours until the next wave.”

Cain kisses the bruise he left on Dean. “Sleep, love. I’ll be here when you wake up.”

That sounds pretty damn good to Dean.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \- Look! I remembered how to write!


	10. Chapter Ten

Two days later, Dean wakes up tangled in sheets that smell like slick, come, and sweat. He blinks and looks around, but he’s alone in bed. Residual heat tells him that Cain hasn’t been gone long.

The last forty-eight hours have passed in a haze of knotting, sleeping, and being pampered within an inch of his life. It’s  _ awesome. _ He’s far past the days when he was completely helpless during heat cycles, so he  _ could _ take care of himself, but it’s much more fun to let Cain do it for him. His alpha instincts have been driving him to provide for Dean in every way imaginable He’s apologetic, rueful, but both of them indulge the alpha’s instincts.

The bedroom door opens slowly to reveal Cain, dressed in snug black briefs and holding a tray piled high with a variety of breakfast foods. There’s also a steaming carafe that Dean prays has coffee in it.

His libido, tired though it is, perks up at the sight of his mostly naked alpha. Cain is all hard, lean muscle and a generous dusting of dark hair all over, shot through with grey here and there. His chest and shoulders are broad, all of his bulk comes from hard, back-breaking work and  _ Dean wants him. _

From the smirk on the alpha’s face, he knows it, too. “Not yet, love,” he rumbles as he comes to the bed and sets the tray down on the bedside table. “You need to eat first, then a bath.” He quirks an eyebrow. “Shouldn’t you be winding down now, anyway?”

Dean grins as he sits up, letting the sheet pool at his waist. “Yeah, but you’re  _ hot, _ alpha.”

Cain laughs, a deep, rolling sound that sinks into Dean’s bones. The smile on his fae highlights how handsome he is. A warm feeling bubbles up in Dean’s chest, and it takes him a beat to recognize it as happiness and love.

“Nevertheless,” Cain is saying, “you’ll have to wait a bit. I need to take care of you.”

Dean lets the happiness he feels fill his scent, and a little thrill zips up his spine when Cain’s scent deepens with his own alpha happiness.

_ This is perfect, _ he thinks giddily as he lets Cain feed him bites of toast and slices of bacon and fruit. When he left his pack and ran, this feeling of quiet contentedness, of home and safety and love, this is what he was looking for.

He finally gets his coffee, too, once Cain has finished watching him with an eagle eye. He cuddles back against Cain’s chest, nose in his coffee, while the alpha holds him close, scent-marking him shamelessly.

Dean’s a little heat drunk, he knows, but he can’t help but revel in the closeness, the warmth. For the first time in years, absolutely nothing is expected of him. Cain doesn’t want him to make hard decisions, or to be responsible for pretty much anything. Cain just wants to take care of him. Cain gently guides Dean to where he wants him, feeds him, and fucks him until Dean’s a puddle of relaxation and satisfaction.

Even with the coffee, Dean’s eyelids start to droop. Though his heats aren’t as intense as they used to be, they still tend to exhaust him.

His mug is gently lifted from his hands at the same time that Cain presses a tender kiss to his neck. “Not yet, love,” Cain murmurs again. “You still need a bath.”

“Later?” Dean asks hopefully.

Cain chuckles, and the rumble of his chest shakes Dean. “No, come on,” he says. “I’ve already got everything ready for you.”

Dean perks up a little. “Can we fuck in the tub?”

Cain shifts away from behind Dean and pulls him to his feet with an indulgent smile. They both ignore the way the sheet falls to the floor, leaving Dean bare. “We’ll see,” he says.

Dean groans theatrically but lets Cain pull him into the bathroom. The room is dominated by a massive clawfoot tub, easily big enough for the two of them. There are big east-facing windows, so sunshine is filling the room with warm morning light. All of the fixtures are burnished brass and Cain has already laid out a stack of fluffy dark towels and a small basket of bath salts beside the rub.

It looks like  _ heaven. _

Dean steps into the tub and sinks down, hissing at the feeling of cold porcelain against his skin. Cain runs a soothing hand through his hair, presses a gentle kiss to his forehead, then turns to fuss at the faucet and choose a concoction of bath salts to go into the bath.

Water that’s just a shade from scalding splashes around Dean’s feet and legs. He relaxes into it with a groan. He didn’t realize how sore some of his muscles were, or how sensitive and tender some of his skin is. After the initial sting, he lets the heat of the water soak into him, unknotting all of the tension he didn’t realize he was carrying.

Once the water is up to his shoulders and the room smells heavily of lavender and honey (the whole farm smells like honey), Cain guides Dean to sit forward so the alpha can settle in behind him. Dean immediately leans back into Cain’s strong chest, resting his weight there while Cain wraps his arms around Dean’s middle and holds him close. Cain tucks his nose behind Dean’s ear and inhales deeply.

Dean floats on the good feelings, the hot water, and the relaxing scents for what feels like a long time. Eventually, Cain produces a sudsy washcloth from gods know where and washes Dean gently, starting at his very tender neck (littered with dark bruises and teeth marks)(though not the teeth marks Dean has been  _ really _ thinking about these last two days). The soothing hand moves down his arms, to his hands, and between each finger, back up to his chest, then down his belly. Cain is perfunctory when he washes Dean’s cock, but it starts to fill regardless. Cain ignores it studiously, moving to wash gently between Dean’s legs, his puffy hole, then down the long muscles of his thighs.

The arousal that Dean feels is less urgent than he has felt since his heat started, but it’s more  _ present, _ somehow, more important. Cain has spent the two days waiting on Dean hand and foot, making sure that Dean wanted for nothing while he went through his heat. The kind of attentive care that Cain has given him is like nothing Dean has gotten in  _ any _ context since he was a pup, and a romantic partner has never even come close.

It makes Dean love him even more fiercely, and it makes Dean think that his alpha deserves a reward.

Dean tilts his head back to rest on Cain’s shoulder, then turns so he can nuzzle and nip at his jaw through his beard. Cain hums, a low sound in his throat, and drapes the washcloth over the side of the tub again. His hands come to rest at Dean’s hips, but he only holds Dean gently, like he somehow knows that this is Dean’s rodeo. It makes Dean flush in arousal, an alpha giving up control so easily just because Dean wants it.

_ Godsdamn. _

Dean arches his back, reaching behind him to thread his fingers through Cain’s long, thick hair, which has remained unbound since his heat started. Cain is pressing adoring kisses to Dean’s shoulder and neck, and Dean tilts his head to give him more access.

It takes a little maneuvering and a lot of Cain’s help, but Dean manages to somehow get himself onto his knees, his lower legs bracketing Cain’s thighs and hips. Dean rocks down, letting himself rub along Cain’s cock with his hole without actually sinking down onto it. A low growl emanates from his alpha’s chest, but Cain’s hands remain still on Dean’s waist, grounding him but not controlling him.

Finally, Dean reaches down to wrap his fingers around Cain’s thick alpha cock. Cain has got to be sore by now, his knot tender and already swollen, but he gives no indication of displeasure when Dean squeezes gently and positions him so that the tip of his cock presses against Dean’s entrance.

Admittedly, the bath isn’t the  _ best _ place to have sex. Water is terrible lube, and the efficiency of Dean’s own natural slick is definitely decreased by the bath. He makes do, though, hissing at the burn of the stretch as he sinks down, even though it’s been several days of marathon sex. Cain is  _ just that big. _

It seems like hours until Dean is fully seated on Cain’s cock, the slight swelling of his knot stretching him even further. Dean moans and rocks a little, pressing Cain’s cock against his prostate and making his own blurt precome.

_ “Alpha,” _ he moans, hands falling to grip the sides of the tub.

“So pretty like this, my love,” Cain says, a growl evident in every syllable. “So good for me.”

The praise washes through Dean, spreading a gentle, even warmth through him. His heat is almost over, but he’s far from being unaffected by Cain’s words.

_ “Fuck,” _ he whines, rocking back onto Cain’s cock again.

“Ride me, Dean,” Cain purrs. “Come on, my love. You can do it, one last time. For me.”

_ For me. _ The words shake Dean’s inner omega awake and he finds himself rising up until just Cain’s tip is still inside, then letting gravity do the work of taking him back down to bury Cain back inside him. Dean drops his head back and moans, shuddering at the way Cain is just letting him use his cock.

“Good, good. Keep going, love.”

With Cain’s gentle encouragements ringing in his ears, Dean rides his alpha slowly at first, taking his time to feel every stretch, every thrust and movement. It doesn’t take too long, however, before he starts to move faster. Soon there’s water sloshing over the sides of the tub, unheeded by either occupant. Dean is slamming himself down, crying out every time Cain’s cock hits his prostate, which is more often than not.

Cain’s fingers, so gentle at the beginning, are like vises on Dean’s waist, adding to the fingertip bruises that are already there. He’s still not controlling Dean’s actions, just holding on for dear life while Dean rides him hard.

Cain comes first, his knot swelling and locking them together. The alpha’s back bows and he grinds his teeth together so hard Dean can hear it over his own nonstop moaning. Cain’s orgasm trips Dean’s, making him shake and tremble on top of his alpha as he rides out wave after gentle wave of pleasure.

Finally, Dean slumps back against Cain, who holds him close and scents sleepily at his neck and shoulder.

“You’ve rendered the bath obsolete,” Cain says, no censure in his voice at all.

Dean grins. “And it was  _ awesome.” _

* * *

Some hours later, they’re curled up together in bed and Dean is almost all the way to sleep when a spike of anxiety shoots itself through Cain’s scent. Dean’s awake instantly, and he grips Cain’s forearm where it’s wrapped around his middle. Cain’s muscles are hard with tension, and his breathing has stopped completely where it was puffing gently against the back of Dean’s neck.

“Alpha?”

“Dean,” Cain says softly, “we… Never discussed birth control.”

It’s like a bucket of cold water was dumped directly on Dean’s head.  _ Fuck, fuck, fuck. _

He hasn’t told Cain. He can’t put his finger on why he hasn’t, but he thinks it’s because he was enjoying himself so much with the alpha. He didn’t want to lose the companionship, the easy affection, the  _ love. _ He knows that he will now, if not for this, for his deception about it.

_ Fuck. _

His scent has gone thick with distress, and Cain’s immediately all over it. He tucks Dean closer to his body and presses soothing kisses to his neck and shoulders. His own scent is pumping out calming pheromones left and right.

“Shh, shh, love, it’s all right,” he’s murmuring in Dean’s ear. “We don’t have to talk about it right now, we can deal with whatever comes in the morning. Shh, rest now, omega, shh.”

Dean gathers up as much courage as he can and manages to mutter out, “Kinda the opposite problem of what we have, alpha.”

Cain pauses in his frantic comforting. Though he doesn’t move anymore, it’s clear that Dean has his attention. It’s just a matter of figuring out if he really  _ wants _ the alpha’s attention like this.

“What… What do you mean?”

Dean sighs. “I…” Cain tries to pull him over so they can face one another, but Dean resists. “Wait,” he blurts out, “this is better. Easier. So I don’t… Can we just stay like this?” He despises how small his voice sounds.

Cain relaxes, but makes sure to keep Dean close to him. His fingers draw nonsensical, ridiculously soothing shapes on the skin of Dean’s belly. “Whenever you’re ready, then.”

It takes Dean longer than he’d like to admit, but not as long as he really thought he’d need to whisper out, “I can’t.”

Cain, to his immense credit, simply stays where he is and matches Dean’s volume. “You can’t what, love?”

“I can’t have pups,” Dean rasps, unable to make his volume increase. “I’m barren. There was an accident when I was a teenager. Put me in the hospital, and now there’s… There’s too much scar tissue. My chances of getting pregnant are less than half of a percent.”

There are a few long beats of silence before Cain’s big, long-fingered hand splays across Dean’s belly, and the alpha places a gentle, loving kiss just behind Dean’s ear.

“That must have been a hard thing to hear at that age,” he whispers.

Dean shrugs. His voice is stronger when he speaks again. “I guess? I hadn’t really thought of pups yet, to be honest. And then Dad got sick, and it seemed like I already had too many things to take care of. Pups were the last thing on my mind. And then…”

Here’s the hard part.  _ Gods. _

“And then?” Cain prompts gently, without expectation or demand.

Dean takes another deep breath. “And then Ketch. We’d been hanging out, fucking for a while. I don’t think he liked that I put being Alpha over our relationship, but there was so much responsibility on my plate. There was no way I could put him first. When he found out I was barren on top of all that, fuck knows  _ how _ he found out, he beat feet pretty quick. Told me…” Dean swallows, because although the words don’t hurt anymore, the sentiment behind them lingers, still stings. “He told me that I was broken, that no one was going to want me if I couldn’t provide pups.”

They’re quiet for another long time, and Dean tries to brace himself for rejection.

“Dean,” and there is a fierceness of will and intent in Cain’s voice that Dean hasn’t heard before, “you can’t possibly think I’d leave you over this?”

“I mean-”

This time, Cain doesn’t let Dean resist. He pulls Dean onto his back and hovers over him, bracing his weight on an elbow and staring down at the omega. Dean’s taken aback by the fire in Cain’s blue eyes. He’s pinned where he is, staring back.

“Dean,” Cain says, his voice sending a hot awareness down Dean’s spine, “when I sought you out after our run in the woods, I was just looking for  _ you. _ I did not know if you had pups, or if you had employment, or if you had any number of perceived ‘flaws’ that would make one supposedly undesirable. I simply wanted you, and I was willing to do the work to find you and court you.”

One big, calloused hand cups Dean’s cheek, and he realizes distantly that there are tears running into his hairline as Cain continues to speak.

“If you wanted to fill our home with pups, I would be happy, but only because that would mean that  _ you _ were also here in our home. This changes nothing at all for me, my love. I want you, and I  _ love _ you. Just you, not our potential, not  _ your _ potential, just you.”

Cain is caught unaware by the way Dean hurls himself at him, pressing their lips together in a hard, messy kiss. The alpha isn’t into dallying, however, so he quickly wraps Dean in his arms and turns them again so he’s hovering on top, kissing Dean back sweetly.

As he yanks Cain’s briefs down, overwhelmed by the alpha’s absolutely perfect response to something that has been a deep, burning shame for Dean for decades, he pants against Cain’s mouth, “I’m going to mate you someday.”

Cain’s answering grin is triumphant, smug, and relieved all at once.

“Well,” he says as he positions Dean for another round, “if you insist.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \- *slides in after two months of radio silence, posts, and runs away*


	11. Chapter Eleven

Dean has never been happier, as stupid and mushy as that sounds.

His work at the garage is well-paying, steady work that he loves. He likes his coworkers almost enough to call them friends. He’s working with his hands, and the most complicated decision he ever has to make is where he’s going for lunch.  _ And _ he has a full garage at his disposal to work on Baby, since Rufus doesn’t mind as long as he cleans up after himself.

He texts and calls Cas and Charlie almost every day now. It soothes the part of his inner omega that needs a pack, that needs contact with other Weres. More importantly, he gets to keep up to date with his best friends.

And if it just so happens that it also lets him keep up with pack gossip? Well, unexpected perk.

Between bitching about painting  _ (“I cannot express how frustrating the color gamboge is.”) _ and whatever the hell Charlie does all day  _ (“The character creator is so glitchy I think I’m developing an actual eye twitch.”), _ he hears about the pack. Sam is doing  _ great, _ just like Dean knew he would. Everyone respects and likes the alpha, and if that makes resentment burn around Dean’s heart just a little, it’s eclipsed by relief. His pack, the one he gave blood and sweat and more than one tear to take care of, is okay. They’re flourishing, even, under Sam’s leadership.

It’s a massive weight off of the omega’s shoulders. The worry that he was abandoning his responsibilities, that he was leaving Weres who relied on him without support. He felt irresponsible and selfish, even as he knew he was doing the right thing.

Now that he knows that the pack is thriving, he lets the lingering guilt go gratefully.

And then, of course, there’s Cain.

Dean knows that he’s never been in a real relationship. The thing he had with Ketch was something borne of boredom and stark loneliness, the aching need to have someone warm next to him at night. He never had any more than a passing affection for Ketch, and he knows it was mutual.

In the weeks after his heat, Dean finds out what a relationship is really like. With his last secret given to Cain, there’s no more angst, anxiety, waiting for the other shoe to drop. Now it’s all easy warmth, casual kisses and touches, and Cain’s small, bright smile every time they’re together.

Which is a  _ lot. _ Dean’s warm, happy omega scent has thoroughly saturated everything at the farm. He has a dedicated parking space, a hook on the coat rack, and space for his boots, lined neatly next to Cain’s at the end of the day. He knows where everything in the kitchen is kept, even if all he can do is manage not to burn the coffee when he’s in there. His books have been making a slow migration onto the shelves there, as have his movies, and he and the alpha both have started making noises about Dean just biting the bullet and moving in permanently.

Dean hardly wants to admit it, but the idea of moving into his alpha’s house (nest) makes his inner omega go into hysterics. He can hardly keep the grin off his face every time Cain oh-so-subtly mentions that the commute from the garage to the farm isn’t much further than from the garage to the apartment.

Life is good.  _ Really _ good, for the first time since Dean was a pup.

He probably should have known something was coming to try to fuck it all up.

* * *

It starts with the first call he makes to Sam in almost a year. For a while, it’s stilted, strange in a way it’s never been between the Winchester boys, and it makes part of Dean ache. They are, as ever, avoiding what they really want to say.

“Man, I can’t even imagine just starting over like that.”  _ I’m so fucking furious at you. _

“It was pretty wild, yeah. Not as easy as you’d think.”  _ I know, I know. _

“So, you like your new apartment?”  _ How could you leave me like that? _

“Yeah, it’s nice. Quiet.”  _ I had to, Sammy. I was dying there. _

But they didn’t get to be as close as they were (are) without knowing, somehow, how to communicate with one another.

A quiet huff of laughter on the other end of the line. “Yeah, no. Not really. Always kinda loud out here, y’know?”  _ I… I kind of get it, though. What you did. _

Dean grins. “Chaos, Sammy. It’s chaos.”  _ I would never have left if I thought you really needed me. _

“It’s Sam, Dean.”  _ I know. _

“Always gonna be Sammy to me, Sammy.”  _ Thank you. _

“Bitch.”  _ I forgive you. I love you. _

“Jerk.”  _ I forgive you, too, and I love you, too. _

So they start talking again. It’s cautious, but it’s good. Dean never offers any details about where he ended up, and Sam doesn’t push. Sam lets Dean know when Cas and Charlie make their way to him to visit, and Dean thanks him, returns the favor when they head back home. Sam tells him about the pack and Dean offers what little advice he has, which is mostly, “Hell, Sam, you’re in charge. Make ‘em listen to you. Their heads are hard enough to crack a few skulls without hurting anyone.”

Dean tells him about Cain, the smart, tough, gentle alpha he met who he’s crazy about. Sam teases him, as is his obligation as a younger sibling, and Dean rolls his eyes. Sam’s been mated to Jess, a pretty, feisty beta who is his match in every way, for years now, and they’re starting to talk about pups.

It doesn’t hurt as much anymore, that, not since Cain.

Funny how that works.

* * *

Then Sam asks if Dean and Cain will meet him and Jess for dinner.

A bolt of panic thuds through Dean’s chest.  _ Gods, _ he wants to go to dinner with his little brother and his mate, but he can’t go back to pack lands, not yet. Shit, maybe not  _ ever, _ not without this thrumming anxiety beneath his skin, but definitely not right now.

“We meet in the middle,” he says firmly, the gruffness in his voice hiding the way he thinks it might be shaking a little.

“Of course!” Sam says in that way he has, the way that tells Dean that the kid has been reading too many self-help books and is trying to be “supportive” and to “bridge the gap between he and an estranged sibling” or whatever the fuck it is he’s trying to do.

_ Obnoxious brat, _ Dean thinks with only a minimum of real heat.

* * *

They meet at a relatively nice restaurant about an hour out from Kansas City. It’s not quite halfway, but Sam doesn’t need to know that and Dean doesn’t intend to share. Jess is gorgeous, as always, in a yellow sundress with her blonde hair cascading around her shoulders. She pulls Dean into a tight hug and presses a hard kiss against his cheek.

“Miss you,” she murmurs, with none of the bitterness or anger the words could have. Dean hugs her harder.

Cain and Sam get along well. Sam postures a little, puffing his chest out and leading the way as they find their table. Cain’s a little older, a little softer around the edges, and has nothing to prove. He follows easily, and Dean thinks he’s probably the only one who can smell the faint traces of amusement in his alpha’s scent.

Conversation flows relatively easily. It’s awkward in brief bursts, but mostly, it’s really, really good. When Cain leans back to lay his arm along the back of Dean’s chair and Dean automatically leans into the big alpha, Sam’s eyes are drawn to the motion. Jess is beaming at them, but Sam’s brow furrows.

“Another bee farmer, Crowley,” Cain is explaining to Jess, “called to let me know that he’d lost a couple of his colonies to iflaviridae, which is a disease that can quickly get out of hand.”

Jess leans forward. “Is there anything you guys can do to stop it?”

Dean doesn’t miss the “you guys” in there, the way Jess automatically makes them a team. It goes ignored but for the warming of their scents and the gentle way Cain’s arm tightens around Dean’s shoulders.

Cain smiles. “We just have to watch the numbers. They drive the diseased bees out themselves, but if it’s not monitored, it can quite easily result in colony collapse.”

“That sounds terrible!”

Dean is opening his mouth to respond when Sam beats him to it.

“Sounds like a lot of work,” his younger brother says, and unease skitters down Dean’s spine. “The bees and the farm and everything.”

“It’s a labor of love,” Cain says placidly.

Sam leans forward. In the low lighting of the restaurant, his face looks weird, like a stranger’s face. Dean doesn’t like it one bit.

“But, like, it’s also kinda lonely out there, right? Just the two of you all the time?”

Cain’s scent goes flat with displeasure, but his words are mild. He doesn’t like what Sam is saying, not-so-subtly implying, but he knows that Sam is important to Dean and he’s not going to raise a fuss about it.

_ Damn, I love him. _

“We get along just fine.”

Jess, bless her godsdamn beautiful soul, knows that Sam’s being weird and tries to salvage the situation. She leans forward, too, like they’re sharing a secret, and rests her chin on one hand.

“So, what about  _ ma-ating?” _ There’s a teasing note in her voice that Dean appreciates more than he can say. He knows that Jess is one of the least judgemental people on planet Earth, and if he said right now that he and Cain never intended to mate, she wouldn’t bat an eye.

So he gives her a smirk. “It may or may not have been discussed.”

She squeals, but it’s undercut by the narrowing of Sam’s eyes.

“What about pups?” Sam asks, voice laced with misplaced steel.

_ Godsdammit. _

Sam is trying to protect him and Dean knows that. Sam doesn’t want to see Cain become another Ketch, someone using Dean for a bedwarmer and then bailing when they find out the truth. Sam is trying to make sure that Cain is worthy, as a man and as an alpha, of being with Dean. Worthy in Sam’s eyes, anyway.

But  _ godsdammit, _ Dean is a grown man. He may have run away from home like a snotty twelve-year-old, but he did it successfully, at least. He pays his own bills, has his car and his apartment, and he has a boyfriend (mate) who loves him for exactly who he is. He hasn’t had to think about someone’s approval besides his own for nearly a year, and he’s not going back down that rabbit hole.

He opens his mouth to respond angrily, but, for the first time ever, Cain cuts him off. Alpha anger and protectiveness flood the air vibrantly enough to almost make Dean sneeze.

"I assume,” the alpha says, his eyes cold and hard, though his arm is still gentle around Dean, “that you’re referring to the fact that we would be unable to conceive? As I've already told Dean, he is everything I need. The gods have blessed me quite enough as is, even if they should not see fit to bless me more." His gaze hardens impossibly more. "And I'd quite thank you to keep any outdated, sexist views on omegas, mating, and pups to yourself, Alpha Winchester."

The formal address cements what is a painful silence that follows. Dean is torn between being delighted at Cain’s response and angry at Sam’s gall. Part of him wants to lay the verbal beatdown on his stupid brother, and the rest of him wants to fawn over his alpha.

Before he can decide on which reaction to act on, Jess reaches over and smacks Sam over the back of his head, rolling her eyes.

“Down, boy,” she says, exasperation thick in every syllable. “Put the alpha away, Sam.”

Sam’s entire body relaxes and he blushes, stuttering out what sounds like half apology and half denial. Cain, too, seems to deflate a little, and Dean realizes that he had expanded his chest instinctually to face the perceived threat.

Dean meets Jess’ eyes over the table, and they both begin to laugh.

The rest of dinner goes without a hitch.

* * *

They’re walking back to the Impala hand-in-hand after seeing Sam and Jess off when Cain speaks.

“I’m sorry, Dean.” His speech is stiff, almost formal.

Dean frowns and walks closer, shoulder-to-shoulder with Cain. “What? Why?”

Cain is frowning ahead. His long hair is tucked behind his ear, making him look distinguished and, quite frankly, delicious. “I should have let you… Fight your own battles, so to speak. When Sam said what he said, though it was unacceptable, I shouldn’t have jumped to your defense.”

Dean just stares for a second. This man, this  _ alpha, _ who has seen so much, is  _ apologizing _ to him. Cain has led a pack, killed his brother in self-defense, redefined himself from tragedy and heartache, and built a home, carved out a place for himself (the two of them). He has seen things Dean couldn’t bear to witness, and he has probably done some pretty shitty things, too.

And he’s apologizing for defending Dean.

They’ve reached the car, which is handy because Dean grabs the lapels of Cain’s coat and swings them so that his own back is pressed against Baby’s passenger door. He yanks Cain down into a heated kiss. The alpha startles, but it’s not long until he’s pressing Dean back into the car, big hands on Dean’s hips and a low, happy, rumbly growl in his chest as he nips at Dean’s lips and kisses him harshly.

After what seems like forever, and after the last of the tension in Cain’s frame has melted, Dean pulls away. He grins at Cain, who looks a little dazed and a lot ravenous.

“Let’s go home,” Dean husks. “Mate me, alpha.”

Cain smiles, and it’s blinding.


	12. Epilogue - Five Years Later

Dean wakes up too warm. His face is smashed into a broad back, his arm around the torso in front of him. It takes him a moment to remember that it’s Cain. At the small of his back is another too-warm being. It takes him even longer to remember that it’s Johnny, curled up and asleep against Dean in the trusting way that only pups can have. Only a moment after, he also remembers gratefully that Johnny goes back home today.

It’s not that Dean and Cain don't both love the snot out of their adorable nephew. Johnny, with his dark eyes and light hair and bursting, restless energy, always brings life and laughter to the farm when he comes to stay with his uncles.

_ So _ much life. So much  _ loud _ life.

Dean would die for Johnny, and he knows Cain feels the same way, but in the years since they mated and really settled into living their life together, they became used to the silence. There are days where hardly a word is spoken aloud here, and they both treasure it. They’ve both had too many words, too much shouting, too much  _ noise. _ As much of a delight as Johnny is, they always look forward to him going home.

A stirring behind him tells Dean that his reprieve is over.

“... De?”

Johnny’s sleepy, still-tired voice makes Dean’s heart clench a little. “Yeah, buddy, I’m awake.”

Johnny burrows closer, his face pressed into Dean’s back much as Dean’s is pressed into Cain’s. “Fi’ more minutes?” the boy asks.

Dean smiles.  _ Okay, maybe the kid’s not so bad. _

“Sure thing, buddy.”

* * *

After they pack Johnny off with Sam and Jess, delicious peace falls over Primis Farmstead and Apiary again. The drone of bees buzzing lazily in the sunlight fills the air, underlining, somehow, the wordlessness of the day. Wind shakes the trees, the grass, the plants, but it, too, is peaceful.

There are no pups running around, spreading joy with their shrieks of laughter and happiness. There are no dogs barking, cats yowling, or livestock making the gentle but insistent noise that all livestock makes.

Sometimes a big, old truck rumbles across the land, and sometimes a big, classic engine roars up the drive. There’s laughter, sometimes, but it’s soft, unobtrusive. Sometimes there are shouts, and sometimes there are moans.

And always, there is Dean Winchester and Cain Primus, loving one another out loud in the silence they were searching for.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \- Oh, man. I loved this story so much, but I am so glad it's done. It was an aimless fluff piece, really, and I really thought about how I wanted to end it. This is what I finally came up with, and I love it. I hope you do, too.
> 
> \- Btw, Cain and Dean never have pups. They're 100% okay with this.


End file.
